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I' 







A CHIVALROUS DEED, 


AND 


WHAT CAME OF IT. 


BY j/' 

CHRISTINE FABER, 

Author of “ The Guaiidian’s Mystery,” “A Mother’s Sacrifice,” 
“ Carroll O’Donohue,” etc. 



JUl^ 15 lOQi ' ^ 


NEW YORK 
P. J. KENEDY, 
Excelsior Catholic Publishing House, 
6 BARCLAY STREET. 

1891 . 


F//2/C/u 

I 


N 


Copyright, 

1891, 

By P. J. KENEDY. 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, 


AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER 1. 

“Hirty, flirty, girty, goff; 

One, two, three, and it comes off,” 

This sing song was chanted by one of a group of 
little girls. As she came to the final “off ’’ of the 
rhyme, she plucked the crown from the shaker bon- 
net of one of her companions. There were a score of 
them, all little girls ranging in age from nine to 
eleven years, and all but one dressed in more service- 
able than fashionable style. 

They were playing in the yard of a New York 
school : one of the older-fashioned schools, built be- 
fore the introduction of steam heat, or adjustable 
desks. 

It was after school hours on a balmy Friday in the 
latter part of April, and the girls lingered in the 
yard for their sports with no fear of being disturbed. 
The fun of trying to pull off each other’s bonnets just 
as the last word of the rhyme was said, had become 
wildly boisterous and there had not been a lull in the 
screaming and the running till this accident of tearing 
off an entire crown caused a sort of dismayed silence 
fora moment: then the comical appearance of the bon- 


2 A cm VALROUS JJEhJD, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 

net without a top raised a great shout of laughter. 
But the wearer of the shaker did not even smile. She 
was vexed enough to cry, only pride restrained her, 
and as the merriment increased she tore the ruined 
bonnet from her head and stamped her foot in child- 
ish rage. 

Her anger only increased the mirth of her com- 
panions. Unable at last to bear it any longer she 
lied from the yard and up the street to her own home, 
the whole screaming pack of girls at her heels. On 
they scampered till the foremost, she whose dress 
was better than the others, stopping suddenly, said : 

“ Don’t let us run after her any more, girls. I am 
sure we have hurt her feelings. It was awful mean 
of us to laugh at her so.’’ 

“ Ain’t you a nice one, Helen Blun, to talk like 
that, when you’re the very one who tore her hat,” a 
black eyed, resolute girl responded indignantly. “ I 
guess I’d try to be good myself before I went to mak- 
ing saints of other people.” 

“ I know I tore Nanny Tavish’s shaker,” Helen 
replied hotly, but I didn’t mean to do it, and I’ll get 
my father to buy her a new one, and I’ll bring it to 
her Monday.” 

“Oh, you will,” said the first speaker sneeringly, 
“ you had better get your father to buy you another 
bonnet, that one looks as if it had been used by a 
monkey to collect his pennies.’’ 

As this bonnet was the only shabby part of Helen’s 
dress, the advice seemed ludicrously proper, and the 
girls all laughed again. 

Before she had time to reply a very stout and an- 
gry looking woman bore down upon the party, mak- 
ing directly for the saucy black-eyed girl. 

“Is it every afternoon of my life I have to come 
after you ?” she said, putting out her big hand to 
catch the child, but the latter evaded the grip, and 
she was some paces down the street before the 
woman realized her defeat. 


A CJIIFAZROirS BEBD, AJVD WHAT GAME OF IT. 3 

“ May I never, but slie’s like an eel,” she exclaimed, 
‘‘ but wait till I get her home, ’’shaking her big fist 
after the child, “ and as sure as her name is Lizzie 
Morrell, I’ll make her smart. And as for the rest of 
you, ” turning all at once on the partly dismayed 
girls, “I dont know what kind of fathers and mothers 
you have to be letting you race the streets in this mad 
fashion after school is out. Get away home now, 
every one of you. ” 

With a dive at one, and then at another, she drove 
them in all directions, but the more forward ones had 
got back their courage, and they laughed saucily. 

Satisfied however, that she had scattered them, the 
termagant followed in the direction Lizzie Morrell 
had taken, still puffing and talking angrily to herself. 


4 A CBl VALBO US DEED, AND WE A T CAME OF It 


CHAPTER 11. 

Lizzie Morrell’s home was in the most crowded 
tenement part of the city, and two more tenement 
houses six stories high were being built in the very 
block she lived on, while all about were dilapidated 
dwellings, their opened doorways now filled with 
groups of unkempt women and dirty children, while 
the babel of voices was mixed with the schrill scream 
of boys having a street fight, and the hoarse cries 
of a couple of vegetable venders. 

In the very middle of the block was an under- 
taker’s shop, its wide open doors showing a row 
of upright coffins facing the street, and a couple of 
trestles in the centre of the shop. Rare was the time 
when there was not a coffin on those trestles being 
prepared for some neighbor. There was one on it now, 
and Mr. Brush, the undertaker was busy lining it, 
while his assistant. Oleander Thimig, a large, awk- 
ward, light-haired boy of sixteen, sleepily watched 
him from the doorway. 

The fieeing child knew the scenes of the neighbor- 
hood only too well, and in order to take the shortest 
route home she darted through the very middle of 
the street fight, knocking against one of the 
combatants, and turning his angry attention from 
the boy he was fighting with to herself. He tried to 
catch her, but the end of one of her long braids of 
hair just touched his fingers, and the next moment 
he saw her vanish into one of the open doorways. 

The house she went into was the best on the block; 


A CHIVALROUS DKED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 5 


its halls and stairways were covered with oilcloth, 
and every other hall had a hanging lamp, and the 
halls and stairs were very clean. 

Two gossiping women on the door-step looked after 
the child as she lied past them, and they shook their 
heads in a very solemn and ominous way. 

'‘She’s as wild as an Injun,” said one. 

“Yes, and as ugly,” said the other, “Tliem black 
eyes of hers is enough to frighten a-body.” How Mrs. 
Morrell stands her I don’ t know. If she was my child 
she wouldn’t have them wild tricks in her long.” 

“Well, you see,” replied the first speaker, “she is 
not Mrs. Morrell’s own child, and I suppose Mrs. 
Morrell puts up with her for that ; and then after 
all she’s Mrs. Morrell’s husband’s own niece.’’ 

“That’s true enough ; but ‘ spare the rod and spoil 
the child’ is my motto, and if ever a rod ought to be 
used it ought to be on that little spitfire. She’s a 
terror to the neighborhood. Look at what she did 
last week, taking a lot of children into Brush’s shop 
when only that fool. Oleander Thimig, was there, and 
getting them all to measure themselves to the cof- 
fin ! — if we don’t have plenty of deaths this winter 
my name isn’t Sophia Tappan.” 

“ Oh, Mrs. Tappan.” said the other woman terri- 
fied at the prediction, “ you surely do not think any- 
thing like that will come out of what the child did 
just for play?” 

“I hope not,” answered Mrs. Tappan, “ but I know 
I’ve always heard tell from the time I was a child 
that it was a bad thing to measure yourself to a cof- 
fin — it was a sure sign of a speedy death in the fam- 
ily, and I’m glad my Katy wasn’t with the children 
in Brush’s that day.” 

“But my Lucy and Elite were,’’ said the other 
woman plaintively, “ and if anything was to hap- 
pen to them, or their father— oh, dear ! I’ll never let 
them go near Lizzie Morrell again.” 

Mrs. Tappan smiled with a sort of a grim satisfac- 


6 A cm VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 


lion, and then seeing Mrs. Morrell coming she called 
to her companion to look, saying : 

‘‘ I bet anything she’s been having a chase after 
Lizzie. Just look at her ; her face is as red as lire, 
and she’s puffing and blowing like a porpoise.” 

“ Did you see my Lizzie Mrs. Morrell gasped, as 
she stopped and wiped her face with her apron. 

They both said at once that her Lizzie had fled 
past them into the house a few moments before. 

“ I haven’t a breath left in me,” she gasped again, 

running after her, and it’ it wasn’t that she’s me 
own brother-in-law’s child, I’d put her somewhere 
where there’s stronger than me to manage her.” 

“ And you’d be doing right,” said Mrs. Tappan, 
“she wouldn’t be let to run wild then as she is 
now. 

“Let to run wild? ’’ said Mrs. Morrell, her anger 
turning against Mrs. Tappan for this reflection upon 
her government of the child, “ who says she’s let to 
run wild ? my husband is her own uncle, I’d have 
you to understand, Mrs. Tappan,” fixing her hands 
on her broad hips, and putting her flat feet squarely 
down. 

“ She’s my niece by marriage, Mrs. Tappan, and no- 
body that was ever related to me w^as ever let to run 
wild, and what’s more, she’s getting an education, a 
thing that some people don’t give to their own chil- 
dren — ” the last words being a slap at Mrs. Tappan, 
whose daughter two years older than Lizzie Morrell, 
had not gone to school a day in her life. 

Mrs Tappan was made by this remark as angry, 
as, Mrs. Morrell w^as. 

“ You needn’t fling your sneers at me,” she cried, 
raising her voice, “if I don’t send my Katy to 
school. Lizzie Morrell needn’t thank you for being 
sent. It isn’ t to you she owes it but to her uncle that 
makes you send her to school. Didn’ 1 1 hear the 
pair of you scolding about it the other day when 
your door was open and I was drawing water in the 


A CmVALROVSDEED, AND WHAT CAME OE IT. 7 

entry ? Didn’t your husband say that while he lived 
Lizzie should get all the education he could give her ; 
that you shouldn’ t keep her home from school a day, 
and that he’d have his way in that 
Mrs. Morrell was overcome : such a mortifying reve- 
lation of her private family affairs, was too much for 
her to answer ; she turned shortly into the house say- 
ing when she had got behind the threshold : 

“ That’s enough for me ; any woman that ’ll lis- 
ten to another woman’s private coAversation isn’t fit 
company for anybody.” 

Mrs. Tappan, replied by a loud, scornful laugh. 

While this was going on Lizzie had ample time to 
mount two flights of stairs, run through a hall, and 
dart into a room at the end of it. 

Judging by the furniture it was the “best room, 
but it was in a very dusty and untidy state. 

A parrot in an unclean cage was on the marble 
topped centre- table and a couple of fancy paper cages 
hung between the cheap lace curtains of the windows. 
A large heavy middle aged man dressed in bright red 
flannel was sitting in a great easy chair in the centre 
of the room. He wore a nightcap of the same red flan- 
nel, and altogether he made one think of a giant 
monkey. 

His features were strong and homely, but the ex- 
pression of his face was honest and kind. 

From talking to the parrot he had fallen into a 
doze, and Lizzie’s entrance woke him with a start. 

“Is that you, Lizzie he asked. “ Have you been 
at it again ?” There were tones of gentle regret and 
reproach in his voice. 

“No; I have not been at it again, but she’s been af 
ter me again,” said the child, her eyes looking twice 
their size in her anger, and her cheeks very red. Her 
hair combed back from her low, broad forehead was 
as black as her eyes. 

Her complexion was very dark, but lighted by 
color as it was now, it looked brilliant. 


8 A cm VALEO VS DEED, AND WUAT GAME OF IT. 

“If she touches me this time, Dad,” she went on, 
ril scratch and bite her like a cat.” 

“Lizzie, you must not talk like that” he said, trying 
to speak sternly. 

“Yes, I shall ; for I am Just as mad as fire, Dad.” 

Dad looking, at her, could not doubt her anger, 
and he dreaded a meeting between her and his wife 
Just then. 

“What right has she to come after me nearly every 
afternoon,” the lit'tlegirl went on, “and make me a- 
shamed before all the girls in my class ? I heard 
Helen Blun ask one of the girls this morning if that 
feather-bed tied in the middle was coming after me 
to-day ; and she did come, and she tried to get hold 
of me, but I ran away. I hate her — hate her — hate ! 
— HATE !!— HATE !!!” the word each time was more 
prolonged and spoken in a higher key till it became 
almost a shriek. 

Dad said : 

“Lizzie ! Lizzie !” his voice so full of distress stop- 
ped her at once. ‘‘ Dont go on that way, and Just 
liide yourself somewhere now, and I’ll talk to her. 
Do ! that’s a good child.” The girl hesitated, feeling 
as if she must have some revenge, but her love for 
her uncle was stronger than her rage. 

“Do, Lizzie ! do now ; like a good child,” he coaxed 
again, as he put out his hand to her ; the effort 
caused a twinge of pain from his rheumatism and 
as the agony showed itself in his face, Lizzie’s wish 
to have immediate revenge was quite overcome. 

She darted to him, fixing her arms about his neck, 
kissed him on both cheeks, and fied to her own room. 
He heard her locking herself in, and with a sigh of 
relief he began to talk to the parrot. 

“It’s human nature. Poll, and human nature has its 
good as well as its bad, if we’ll only have patience.” 

Poll began to scream in her hoarse voice : 

“Mad as fire ! hate you! hate— hate — hate,” 

This caused new dismay to the kind-hearted man. 


A CmVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 9 

If the parrot was going to tell what Lizzie had said 
Mrs. Morrell’s anger would be greater. 

“Hush, Poll !” he commanded, but the bird was 
too well pleased with her newdy found words to heed 
him ; she strutted about the cage, put her head on 
one side and seemed to delight in her knowledge that 
he could not move from his chair to make her 
stop. 

“ Mad as fire ! hate her — hate her — ” she screamed 
till Mr. Morrell felt that to choke her would be small 
satisfaction. 

The situation became exasperating ; every mom- 
ent brought nearer the return of his wife. He heard 
at length her heavy foot coming up the stair, and the 
good natured man almost trembled at the sound. 

Her anger was not lessened by the words she had 
had with Mrs. Tappan, and when she came into her 
liusband’s presence and did not find the child she 
grew furious. 

“ She’s been here,” she exclaimed, “ You needn’t 
tell me, Bartholomew Mortimer Morrell — ” whenever 
she was angry she called her husband by his full 
name — “and you’ve sent her to hide ; that’s the way 
that child is set over me in my own house, with my 
own husband a taking her part, and then I’m told 
she’s let to run wild. 1*11 tell you what it is, there is 
going to be only one head in this house, and that’s 
me.’’ 

Bartholomew Mortimer did not reply : perhaps 
because he was practicing what he so often advised, 
“ patience with human nature.” 

The parrot was also silent ; she generally was 
when anybody else was talking. 

Mrs. Morrell getting no answer began again : 

“ I demand, Bartholomew Mortimer Morrell, to 
know where you sent that child to hide. I am go- 
ing to punish her for this day’s doings — I am going 
to show the neighbors that I won’t let her run wild 
if you do.” 


10 A CIIIVALHO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


Mr. Morrell straightened himself a little ; even that 
movement, small as it was, gave him pain, but he an- 
swered gently : 

“I think, Maria, you’d better let the child alone 
just now ; she’s gone to her own room and locked 
herself in ; by and by, when you’re both quieted down 
we’ll talk things over a bit, and maybe Lizzie ’ll 
promise to do better.” 

The* gently spoken words did little good. Mrs, 
Morrell still felt too keenly what Mrs. Tappan had 
said, and she answered as angrily as before : 

“ There’s been too much talking over of things in 
this family, Bartholomew Mortimer Morrell ; what’s 
wanted now is an acting of things, and I’ll have it 
too.” 

With this parting shot the woman wheeled about 
and went directly to Lizzie’s room. 

Mr. Morrell sank back in his chair with new pain 
and weariness, while the parrot, now that there was 
silence again, began to strut and talk. 

Lizzie’s room was as odd as. herself. Two bed- 
rooms were between it and the apartment her uncle 
occupied during the day. It was not a very small 
room though it had only one window ; that, how- 
ever, was large and looked out on the street. The 
floor was covered with a bright ingrain carpet, and 
the table was upside down making in this way a sort 
of box for many little squares of cheap paints, small 
paint brushes, colored lead pencils and cards for 
drawing. 

This use of the table had made it necessary for oTie 
of the chairs to do duty as a table, so, accordingly, 
a chair was covered with a green woolen cloth, and 
on the cloth were a number of school books, an ink- 
stand and a pen. 

Almost in the middle of the room was an elderly 
clothes-horse. This piece of furniture helped to hold 
up a triangle made of rough boards loosely nailed to- 
gether. On this triangle rested a drawing not quite 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. \l 

finished, showing that the triangle was meant for an 
easel. A little bureau with a very tiny looking glass, 
a neat crib-like bed, and a rack where Lizzie’s tew 
dresses hung, made up the rest of the furniture. On 
the whitewashed wall hung two really fine engrav- 
ings ; the drawing on the easel was a copy of one of 
these that Lizzie had been trying to make, and though 
it was very rude it showd a good deal of talent. 

Every penny that Dad gave her, she spent for 
paints, crayons, and drawing paper, and as often as 
she could she went to picture-stores to look at pict- 
ures in the windows. 

Mr. Morrell had no children of his own, and he had 
not much learning, but he had good common sense, 
and a very kind heart, and it pleased him to have 
Lizzie give as much time as she could to this work 
that she liked so much. 

Lizzie was the only child of his only and dearly 
loved younger brother, who more lucky thanMr. Mor- 
rell had received a very good education ; he had 
even been something of an artist and from him Liz- 
zie inherited her talent. When his death, and a lit- 
tle after, the death of his wife, made her an orphan 
at the age of six, Mr. Morrell took her for his own 
child. At that time he kept a lai*ge grocery store, 
and he had saved a good deal of money; he meant in 
the future to buy a home, but before he could do so, 
he was stricken with rheumatism. That caused him 
to give up the store, and to go to live in his present 
home, six rooms on the second fioor of a tenement 
house that held twelve other families. 

Mrs. Morrell vvas pleased enough to have her hus- 
band take the little orphan, but when she found the 
child always shrinking from her, and passionately 
rebelling against her management, it changed her 
feelings entirely ; and when at the same time Lizzie 
showed a wild affection for Mr. Morrell and an in- 
stant obedience to his gentle wishes, it made her 
very jealous. 


12 A GIIIVA LUO US DEED, AND WUA T CAME OF IT. 

Lizzie having come from fond parents and a liome 
where she never heard any bat low-voiced, kind 
words, and where she never saw anything but gentle 
manners, could not bear the change to Mrs. Morrell. 
From the time she was very little she had taken a 
dislike to her aunt’s vulgar appearance ; it was so dif- 
ferent from her own little, delicate mother’s. And 
she would not call her uncle’s wife anything but 
Mrs. Moi’rell, while she had always called Mr. Mor- 
rell uncle, changing it to “ Dad,” at his own wish 
when she went to live with him. 

He and his brother had called his father “ Dad,” 
and it seemed to him to be a dearer name for Lizzie, 
since he was going to be more father to her than un- 
cle. 

Mrs. Morrell was not naturally unkind, but she did 
things on impulse, and she was cursed with a very 
quick temper. She thought Lizzie should be punished 
for not liking her, and it never once came into her 
mind that gentleness would win the child. What 
troubled her most was that her husband would 
never let her keep Lizzie home from school to learn 
to do housework, though how much Lizzie would 
have learned is doubtful, for Mrs. Morrell’s house- 
work was done at very uncertain and irregular times. 
Her cleaning days were like spasms, causing every- 
thing in the house to be so turned and put out 
of place, it took days to get them into X)Osition 
again. 

In those cleaning times Lizzie’s room was treated 
like the others, and it was only the firm command of 
her uncle that saved her drawing-cards, pencils 
and paints from an entire sweep into the ash can. 

Mrs. Morrell did not yet know that Lizzie had 
turned the table upside down to make a box for her 
drawing utensils as it was only the day before she 
had thought of the plan when she found that the 
box she had was altogether too small, and she did 
not want to trouble Dad for another. 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OB' IT. 13 

The moment she had locked herself in she almost 
forgot her excitement in the sight of the crude draw- 
iiig on the easel; she meant it to be a present to Dad, 
and it was so much larger than anything she had 
ever tried to draw, that she was proud of it. She got 
her idea of an easel from a cliance sight of one in a 
picture store where to her breathless delight she 
had seen an artist ; she was sure he was an artist 
for he was sitting before the easel painting a pict- 
ure. If she could only do her drawing like that in- 
stead of bending over a table, and with the aid of 
Oleander Thimig she procured this rough easel. Mrs. 
Morrell had an old clothes-horse in the cellar, and 
this Lizzie managed to convey privately to her 
room. 

The girls anger subsided as she looked at the draw- 
ing ; she knew Dad would be pleased, and wouldn’t 
he be surprised at the size and excellence of her 
work. These happy thoughts were unluckily in- 
terrupted by the heavy, well-known footstep, and 
a loud knock at the door. 

‘T won’t answer her, ” thought Lizzie, starting 
away from the easel. 

•‘Let me in ” said Mrs. Morrell, her voice trem- 
bling with rage, “ open the door this minute.” 

There was no answer ; the woman listened but 
could not hear a sound. 

“ I know you’re in there,*’ shouted Mrs. Moirell, 
“ and if you don’t open the door I’ll break it in, ” 
giving the door a violent shake which threatened to 
tear it from its hinges. 

A bright thought came to Lizzie at this juncture, 
and there was a faint smile about her mouth as she 
went to the door and shouted back : 

“ If you break this door down, I’ll put my head 
out of the window and scream murder. ” 

“ Mrs. Morrell paused ; if this threat were put in 
execution it would cause commotion in the. neighbor- 
hood and there was no telling what dreadful things 


14 A.CHIVALROVS DEED, AND WBAT CAME OF IT. 

Mrs. Tappan might say. So she made up her mind 
not to try any more just then to conquer Lizzie, and 
so turned and walked quietly away. Lizzie could 
hardly believe that her stratagem had succeeded ; 
did she dream of what Mrs. Morrell would do a 
few hours later, she would rather have been beaten 
till the blood came. 


A OBiyALIiOlljS DEED, AND WEAT CAME OF IT. 15 


CHAPTER IIL 

The little girl with the torn shaker bonnet who 
had fled from the laughter of her companions, never 
stopped till she got to her own home. It was also 
in a poor and crowded part of the city, but the home 
itself had not been built for a tenement house. It 
showed that in its carved door, wide steps, and broad 
lofty entrance hall. But the floor of the hall, was bare 
and though once a week it was scrubbed, and every 
day it was swept, it was always dirty. 

There was a large niche in the wall near the door ; 
in other days it might have held a statue, but now 
it held a carnphene lamp which was filled with oil 
and lit at night by the tenants in weekly turn. 

Six families were in the house, and every one of 
them except an old couple in the back basement, 
and Mrs. Tavish, the mother of our little Nanny, 
had three or four children. 

The Tavishes lived in a large room at the back 
of the hall; it was their kitchen, dining-room, 
sitting room and bed chamber ; but it had two win 
dows looking out on a large yard with a grass plot 
in the middle. The carpet was worn thread-bare, 
and in many places patched with different pieces. 

A bureau, a bed, a cooking stove, four wooden chairs, 
a table covered with a faded green cloth, a wash tub, 
an ironing board, a clock and a lamp, made up the 
rest of the furniture. But not a speck of dust 
could be seen any where, from the black marble 
mantel-piece where the clock and the lamp stood, 


16 A Cm VALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


to the open closet where the few dishes and shin^ 
ing pans were kept. Even the stove looked as if it had 
just been polished, and the coarse white muslin cur- 
tains of the windows as if they were fresh from the 
iron. 

The wash tub sat on a stool in the middle of the 
room, a cloud of steam coming from it, and a mid- 
dle aged, plain looking woman was bending over 
it rubbing clothes on a wash board. 

The child had dashed into the room and seeing 
how busy her mother was, had thrown herself sob- 
bing on the bed. Mrs. Tavish at once hurried to 
the little girl, “ Nanny darling, what is the mat- 
ter ? ’ ’ 

The little girl looked up, her face covered with 
tears ; how tliankt’ul she was she had such a good 
kind mother to tell her troubles to, and she sat up on 
the bed, flung her arms round her mothers neck, and 
sobbed out the story of the torn shaker. 

“You see, mamma,” she went on, “I was the only 
girl who wore a shaker, and if it hadn’t been an old 
shaker that somebody else used to wear before it was 
given to you for me, the crown wouldn’t have come 
off so easily ; and it looked so funny with no crown, 
and just my hair in that hole, that all the girls 
laughed and laughed till I thought if I didn’t get 
away from them I’d just die.” 

And with another sob she hid her face in her 
mothers bosom. 

Mrs. Tavish in hearing the story suffered almost 
as much as Nanny had done ; but how was she to 
help her daughter’s wearing cast-off clothes when she 
was so very poor ? To be sure she almost always 
made them over before she allowed Nanny to wear 
them, and this took awaj^ a little of the sting. 

“You shall wear your Sunday hat to school after 
this,” the mother remarked after a pause. 

“May I ? oh, you dear, good mamma 1” 

The little face glowed with delight. 


A OIIIVALRO US DEED, A ED WHAT GAME OF IT. 17 

‘‘Then the girls will see that I have as good a hat 
as any of them,” and Nanny kissed her mother with 
every word. 

“I know they used to say things behind my back 
about that old shaker. They thought it was some 
old thing somebody gave me.” 

“Perhaps so, darling ! but we must not be proud, 
and we ought to be willing not to be dressed as well 
as other people, when we have not the means of 
other people.” 

“Oh, but mamma 1 it hurts so to be made fun of,” 
said the child, taking her arms from her mother’s 
neck, and looking very liard inio lier mother’s face, 
“and I can say my lesson so much better wheni know 
I look as well as the rest of tlie girls.” 

“And so you sliould my darling, look just as well 
as the other girls every day in the year if I could af- 
ford it.” 

The sadness in the loving tones hurt the child. She 
threw her arms again round her mother’s neck, sob- 
bing : 

“ I didn’t want to make you sad, mamma, and if 
you like. I’ll wear the shaker again ; you can mend 
it,” forgetting that she did not know what had be- 
come of the crown. 

Mrs. Tavish did not know how much it cost Nanny 
to say that ; only her love for her mother could 
make her ever show herself again to her classmates 
in that horrid bonnet. She said with a sigh : 

“No ; you shall never wear it again : and now, 
dear, I must go to work again for I have all that 
washing to do before night.” 

Nanny slipped from her mother s arms and went 
to look at her “ Sunday hat.” It had been bought 
just a week before — a simple white straw trimmed 
with bows oE pretty blue ribbon. The little girl 
thought it charming, and she said to herself ? 

“ Helen Blun won’t dare to touch that.” 

“Nanny,” called her mother, “don’t you want 
something to eat ?” 


18 A CBIVALJiOUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME IT. 


Nanny started : she had been very hungry when 
she left the class-room, but her trouble had taken all 
appetite from her. She went to the closet and found 
a little cold ham thinly sliced, a pitcher half full of 
milk and in a covered tin box the greater part of a 
loaf of bread. The dish of ham troubled her ; it 
held as many slices as it had done that morning 
after Mrs. Tavish had taken some of them for Nan- 
nay’s lunch. Of what then had her mother made 
her lunch, for even the loaf of bread was not much 
smaller. 

She cut some of the bread, poured a little of the 
milk into a cup, but she did not touch the ham 
though it looked very tempting. She was going to 
save that for her mother’s supper, and she managed 
to eat her bread and milk so that Mrs. Tavish did 
not notice she had left the meat. 

Nanny did not look at all like her mother ; people 
seeing them for the first time together, were often 
surprised to learn that they were mother and daugh- 
ter, for Nanny had big hazel eyes and very dark 
curly brown hair, while her mother’s eyes were 
small and liglit blue, and her mother’s hair was 
straight and fair. 


A cm VALBO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT 19 


CHAPTER IV. 

Helen Blnn lived in a handsome house on a broad 
street. She was ten years old, and she had two 
sisters and three brothers ; two of her brothers were 
twins. Her father, a little slender man, kept a large 
tailor store on Broadway. He had very odd ways, 
but he called all his odd ways, “ discipline.’’ 

Helen’s mother was a handsome woman who liked 
to read novels, do fancy work, and visit her neigh- 
bors. She had been at boarding school from the 
time she was a very little girl till she was a young 
woman but when both her parents died and she had 
to work for her living, she could do nothing more 
than learn to make vests ; in that way she came to 
know Mr. Blun who was just then going into business 
for himself, and he married her. Then he tried to 
discipline her, as he called it, by forcing her to carry 
out every rule he made for the house, but after years 
of trying, she did as he wanted her to do only before 
his face ; behind his back she had her own way. 

Mr. Blun disciplined his children from their baby- 
hood ; he never whipped them, but for every fault 
he made them do something disagreeable. Of course 
his children were very much afraid of him. He 
was not unkind to his family ; Mrs. Blun had three 
servants and the table was well kept ; but for dress 
he gave only enough money to get comfortable 
clothes for herself and the children ; nothing for 
the kind of clothes Mrs. Blun would like to have, 
at least for herself. Sometimes she got them in spile 


20 ^ GHIVALRO VS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

of her husband, but he did not know that, for she 
either did not wear them before him, or she made 
him believe she bought them at a bargain. 

His servants and his clerks all knew his discipline 
but as he paid them well and promptly, they did 
not mind very much. He disciplined himself very 
sternly, never gave way to a laugh, always looked 
solemn, never showed temper, and he was so exact 
that he was never a moment late to his store, nor 
never returned to his home one minute before or 
after his usual time. 

Growing up with such influences, it was not to be 
wondered at that Helen had many faults. 

This little girl knew she was pretty for her own 
mother had told her so, praising to her face, her clear 
pink and white skin, her large deep blue eyes, and 
her long curls of golden hair. 

Helen would not willingly say anything to hurt the 
feelings of another, and she felt it very much when 
her own feelings were hurt, but she did not always 
have the courage to speak well of what she thought 
ought to be spoken well of, and she was generally 
good tempered and agreeable only because it was 
easier to be so. 

She liked to talk of the fine house she lived in, the 
fine store her father kept, and of lier fathers riches ; 
this tendency to boast made some of her class- 
mates dislike her, but most of them were ready 
enough to be her friends because of her father’s 
wealth and postition. Lizzie Morrell was the only 
one who had ever-dared to say just what she thought 
of Helen Blun, and this, Helen had deeply resented. 
She was afraid of Lizzie too, for her sharp speeches 
often made the girls laugh. 

From the first time that Lizzie’s vulgar looking aunt 
appeared on the scene, Helen had become possessed 
of a very powerful weapon. This was the weapon of 
ridicule. Lizzie was ashamed of this relative and the 
girl knew it. As Helen walked slowly home after 


A OmVAlIiOUS JJEED, AND WHAT CAME OE IT. 21 

the attack on Mrs. Morrell, she felt great comfort in 
thinking of her courage in calling this woman a fea- 
ther bed tied in the middle ; it was some satisfaction 
for Lizzie’s remark about her shabby hat ; but that 
thought recalled her promise to buy a new bonnet 
for Nanny Tavish. Slie knew when she made the 
promise how litile hope there was of her keexhiigit; 
her father never gave lier spending money — it was 
against his discipline — and she was too much afraid 
of him to ask him for any ; to ask her mother was 
just as useless, for tshe w^as always complaining of her 
empty purse. 

What should she do ? If she did not bring the 
bonnet to school on Monday, Lizzie Morrell would 
never stop talking about her. She never considered 
how Nanny Tavish niigiit feel at being asked to take 
the bonnet. 

She was thankful it was Friday afternoon ; that 
gave her all the next day to think of some means of 
keeping her word. 

She went into the house by the basement door, 
closing it with a bang ; she had left the area gate wide 
open as she had found it. Only Mr. Blun always 
shut the area gate, and closed doors softly, except 
when doors were closed in his presence. 

On the threshold of the dining-room she met Jane, 
the waitress, setting the table for the six o'clock diu- 
ner. 

“Won’t 5^ou give me a piece of cake with my milk 
to-day ? ” she said coaxingly. 

“ Why, Miss ; you know your father’s orders 
about that,” answered Jane. 

“ He said you never were to have more than bread 
and butter with your milk when you came home 
from school ; and I think he is right ; cake between 
meals is not good for children.” 

‘‘ But, only this once, Jane ; I’ve been working 
awful bard in school, and I ought to have some- 
thing extra. Don’t you think so ? ” 


22 ^ CmVA LRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 

‘‘ Well,” said Jane, ‘J won’t take it on myself to 
give it to you ; I’ll put the basket on the buffet and 
you can do as you please.” 

“You’re a dear, good Jane,” said Helen, and then, 
she cut a large slice of cake and began to eat it, sip- 
ping at the same time from a glass of milk. 

All at once she heard her brothers and sisters com- 
ing down the basement stairs. 

“Oh, dear ! ” she said cramming as much cake as 
she could into her mouth, and putting the rest into 
her pocket. 

They burst upon her just as she was trying to 
wash down the great mouthful with a large swallow 
of milk. Without waiting for her to take the glass 
from her lips they began to pull her dress, and as 
there were eight j^ear old twin boys, two girls, six 
and four years, and a toddling boy of two, they 
made it unpleasantly lively for her. She spilled the 
milk, and when she felt it trickling down her neck, 
and making greasy streaks on her dress, she grew 
angry. 

“ Go away from me,” she shouted, but this only 
made them behave themselvfts worse than ever. Then 
she began to slap them right and left. That caused 
howls from the younger ones and a return of blows 
from the twins. The noise reached Mrs. Blun who 
was talking to a visitor in the parlor. She went to 
the head of the basement stairs and called: 

“What is the matter? and why doesn’ t Jane keep 
those children quiet?” 

“It is not Jane’s place to keep the children quiet,” 
spoke up Jane with spirit, “ it’s the place of the 
nurse you have sewing up stairs, and it isn’ t down 
here the children ought to be.” 

Mrs. Blun’s face crimsoned. She knew that Jane’s 
impertinent speech was quite true : 

“Is Helen down there?” Mrs. Blun asked again. 

The answer came in a chorus. Helen was there. 
Then followed several charges against her. 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 23 


“ She slapped me awful, mamma!” 

“ She’s as cross as two sticks, mamma !” 

“ She's a sassy sing, mamma !” 

The last speech was from four year old lisping Lulu. 

Helen angrily denied everything they said. 

“Be quiet, all of you,” said Mrs. Blun, “ and you, 
Helen, stop teasing the children, and take them up 
to the nursery.” 

And Mrs. Blun went back to the parlor without 
waiting to see if her order would be obeyed, shut- 
ting the parlor door to keep out the noise. 

Not one of the children wanted to go to the nur- 
sery ; the more roomy basement floor was much bet- 
ter for play and they began again to pull Helen 
about. To get away from them she asked them to 
have a game of tag in the yard. 

Away they scampered and they were still engaged 
in the game when Mrs. Blun’ s visitor took her leave. 

Mrs. Blun went back to the sewing room, looking 
at her watch as she entered. 

“A quarter to flve,” she exclaimed, “ Mr. 
will be here at half past. It is time for you, Cathenne, 
to go to the children.” 

“Yes ma’am,” replied Catherine, sticking her nee- 
dle into her work and beginning to fold it up, “and 
I couldn’t do much more for I haven’t enough trim- 
ming.” 

“Not enough trimming !” repeated Mrs. Blun. 

“No ma’am ; I’ll want a full yard more.’* 

“And that will cost two dollars — oh dear! I’ll 
have to take some of the money I was saving for 
that lace.” 

“If you don’t get it right away,” said Catherine, 
“ there may not be any of it left.” 

“That is true,” said Mrs. Blun, “but whom shall I 
send for it ? You have to dress those children be- 
fore Mr. Blun comes in, and there wouldn’t be time 
for me to go. I suppose I shall have to send Helen.” 

Mrs. Blim'called Helen from the yard and gave her 


24 ^ cm valro us deed, and what game of it 

a five dollar bill and a piece of the trimming she was 
to match. She told her just where to go, cautioned 
her to hurry so as to get home before her father 
came, and to be very careful of her change. The store 
was six blocks away, and quite near it was a milli- 
ner’s shop. Helen forgot her mother’s caution and 
stopped to look at the gay bonnets in the window. 
Among them was a pretty shaker, just the size of 
the one Nanny Tavish had worn; it was marked one 
dollar. 

The girPs heart gave a bound ; only a dollar. 

How she longed to buj^ it. What delight to bring 
it to school and give it to Nanny Tavish right be- 
fore Lizzie Morrell. She could hardly tear herself 
away, and when she did, a wicked thought came to 
her. After she paid for the trimming she would have 
three dollars change ; why could she not say she 
had lost a dollar ? 

The temptation was so great it sent the blood 
into her face, and made her heart beat rapidly ; it 
thumped so hard she thought the people who 
passed must notice it. 

She had never told a lie like that before, and she 
had never kept anything that belonged to another. 

She walked on slowly seeing the shaker all the 
time, and feeling the temptation grow stronger and 
stronger. When she reached the store her knees 
were trembling and she thought the clerk who 
waited on her read in her face what she was tempted 
to do. When he gave her the change from the five 
dollar bill her hand shook so that he could not help 
noticing it, and he said kindly : 

“ What is the matter, little girl ? ” 

She answered : 

Nothing, ” but. how she got out of tiie store 
with her parcel and her change she hardly knew. 
In the street she breathed more freely, and when she 
came in sight of the bonnet again her courage came 
back. She went boldly into the store and asked for 


A cmVALHoirs dbbd, aBd what cam hi of it. 25 


the much coveted article putting on the counter one 
of the three dollar bills she had just received. 

The saleswoman wrapped the shaker up neatly in 
brown paper, looking often at the child as she did 
so. At another time Helen would have been much 
pleased with such attention, thinking this interest 
was caused by her pretty face, but now, she was 
only frightened. Did the woman divine her 
wicked secret ? 

When at last the parcel was in her hand she hur- 
ried from the store, and ran with all her might till 
she was within a block of her home. Then she hal- 
ted and began to wonder what she should do. How 
would she have the courage to tell that terrible lie ? 

How get the parcel to her room without being 
seen ? 

She walked more and more slowly trying to think 
of some plan to save herself, when her name was sud- 
denly called by some one behind her. She started 
as if she had been struck, and the color all left her 
face, when she found that it was her father who was 
returning from his business. 

“ You have been buying something, Helen, ” he 
said, “Is it something for your mother % ” 

“ Yes, papa ; ’’ she answered, trembling so she 
could hardly walk. 

She wondered what she should answer if he should 
ask what she had bought. She could tell him what 
was in the smaller parcel, but the very thought of 
the larger one made her perspire. 

Mr. Blun was thinking what he should say to his 
wife for having disobeyed his imperative order never 
to send the children on errands, so he did not speak 
again to his daughter. 

Helen walked by his side, trying to keep the 
bulky bundle as much as possible out of his sight 
and she was very thankful when they reached the 
house without having him say another word to her. 
She was also glad tliat lie went up to the hall door 


26 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


letting them both in with his latch key. Once here 
she fled like a deer to her room. 

During the day Helen’s brothers and sisters went 
ill and out of her apartment as they wished, and as 
it was part of Mr. Blun’s discipline to have no doors 
locked in his house, except those leading to the 
street, Helen did not even have a key to her room. 

She could hear the voices of the children clamor- 
ing in the nursery above her as she looked for some 
place to hide her secret. The wardrobe was too 
narrow, the drawers of her bureau had the same 
fault, and there was no closet in the room ; the only 
place she could think of was under the bed, and there 
she hurriedly put it as she heard her mother calling 
to know if she had come back. Before she could 
answer she heard her father say ? 

“Yes, Mrs. Blun : I have just let Helen in, and I 
would like to understand what this indifference to 
my command means?” 

Then the trembling child heard her parents go 
into her mother’s room and close the door. Every 
moment she expected to hear herself called, but a half 
hour passed and there was not a sound. 

The dinner bell rang and the little ones followed 
by Catharine went down to the dining room. They 
did not seem like the same children now that their 
father was home. 

Helen hastened to. wash her face and hands, brush 
her hair and put on a clean apron, for the smallest 
carelessness in her appearance always brought some 
punishment from her father ; but she was still trem- 
bling so much that the brush fell from her hands, 
and trying to tie her apron she pulled one of the 
strings off and was obliged to stop and pin it on. 
When she did at length enter the dining room, the 
whole family was seated, her father looking very 
stern, her mother very red, and the younger children 
and the nurse exceedingly frightened. The silence 
was dreadful, and Helen with her heart in her mouth, 


A CHI VALRO VS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OB' IT. 27 

and not daring to look at any body took her place. 

When she was seated her father said : 

“ You are too late, Heien, have you any excuse V’ 

“ No sir she answered in a very low voice, and 
not daring to look away from the table cloth. 

‘‘Does my daughter mean to tell me that she 
purposely and deliberatery kept the whole family 
waiting 

There was no response. 

Mr. Blun having waited a moment, said again : 

“You will take as your punishment the loss of 
your desert till Monday.” 

After that not a word was spoken except to give 
an order to the servant, and when the meal was 
ended they all waited in the same dreadful silence 
for Mr. Blun to show that they might leave the 
table. This he did by looking about to see that 
each one was sitting up very straight, then rising and 
leading the way out. 

The fnn-loving twins always took this time to re- 
lieve their feelings, either by making faces, trying to 
imitate their father’s stern manner ; or slyly kicking 
and pinching each other. This time Helen’s dan- 
gling apron string was the temptation. A slight 
twitch sufficed to pull it off inflicting a deep scratch 
on one of the little fingers. The pain and the spur- 
ting blood caused him to scream. 

“What was that said Mr. Blun, solemnly. 

“ Helen had a pin in her apron string,” answered 
the boy, and when I just pulled it so she’d know it 
was untied, the pin stuck in my fingers.” 

“ A pin in her apron string,” repeated Mr. Blun, 
with greater severity, “Is that true, my daughter?” 

Whenever he said my daughter, Helen expected 
to be punished, but knowing her brother had 
brought this trouble upon her just from mischief, she 
summoned up enough courage to say : 

“ Walter pulled my apron to tease me, and if the 
pin stuck him it wasn’t my fault.” 


28 ^ CmVALRO vs DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 


But a pin in her apron string was to Mr. Blun’s 
mind a very grave matter, and he said with increas- 
ing severity : 

“ How, my daughter, did you come to have a pin 
in your apron string 

“I was in a hurry to get to dinner in time, and the 
string came off, and I pinned it on,” said Helen 
speaking very fast. 

Bapid speaking was also against Mr. Blun’s disci- 
pline, and he said in the same terrible manner : 

“You will please repeat your statement in a loud 
and distinct voice so that every member of your 
family may hear and be benefited by the lesson I 
shall thereafter draw from it.” 

Helen was red to her ears from shame and anger, 
but she had to say again what she had already said 
in a voice so loud "that it actually reached to the kit- 
chen where it set the cook and the waitress to laugh- 
ing. After that the poor girl hung her head feeling 
more ashamed of her present disgrace than of the 
wicked thing she had done that afternoon, Mr. Blun 
said in an awful tone. 

“You see, my children, of what terrible things 
your sister has been guilty to-da}?' : she is late in 
coming to dinner ; and why is she late ? because 
she has not that love of order — ” and here Mr. 
Blun darted a severe look at his wife — “which I 
have striven to implant in her, and which it is my 
desire to implant in every one of you. Your punish- 
ment Helen, shall be to go to bed immediately, and 
to remain in your room all day to-morrow. 

In the solitude of your apartment you will be able to 
reflect upon the terrible consequences of tardiness 
and the crime of having pins instead of stitches in 
your clothes. You may now precede us in your de- 
parture.” 

Helen was so glad to get away she hardly minded 
the punishment of having to go to bed immediately 
and having to stay in her room all the next day. 


A OmVALIiOC^S DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 29 


CHAPTER V. 

Saturday was always the most delightful day of the 
week to Nanny Tavish. On that day she was free 
from school, and on that day her mother let her read 
as much as she chose. She got her supply books 
from old Mr. Alcock in the back basement and he 
seemed to have a great number of fairy tales and 
stories for young people. Nanny also composed 
little rhymes and stories, bur she was ashamed to let 
any one see them except her mother. She kept 
them in an old portfolio in a corner of the room, 
under a chair on which her books were placed, and 
when sweeping or dusting, Mrs. Tavish was very 
careful to put everything back just as she had 
found it ; to her every scrap of paper belonging to 
Nanny was precious. 

On this Saturday morning the sunshine streaming 
into the room awoke the little girl before her mother 
called her, and she lay trying to think of a line to 
rhyme with three other lines she had composed be- 
fore going to sleep. Her mother up long before, had 
swept and dusted the room, polished the stove and 
made a bright lire for her smoothing irons ; three of 
them were heating on the front of the stove, while 
on the back was an earthen-ware tea-pot. A small 
table near the window was set for break-fast ; the 
dishes held nothing more than bread and butter, 
but the clean white cloth, the bread cut in the thin- 
nest slices, and the butter in a glass dish were very 
inviting. 


30 A CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF U. 

‘‘I have a surprise for you, ’’ said her mother 
after the morning kiss, “ last night after you had 
gone to sleep a note came from Miss Ingoldsby asking 
me to bring her clothes to Staten Island. She has 
gone there to board in a hotel for the summer, and 
you can come with me this afternoon. 

The little girl’s heart was full of happiness. The 
fairy tale she was going to read after breakfast and 
the trip to Staten Island in the afternoon were beauti- 
ful things to anticipate, and she felt as if she were 
one of the happiest little girls in the world. 

Notwithstanding Nanny’s love for her mother she 
did not oiffer to wash the breakfast dishes, and tidy 
up the |oom as she should have done, though she 
was uncomfortable all the time. Nanny would have 
resented it had any one told her she was fonder of 
fairy tales than of her mother. But this little girl 
with all her affection was sometimes not willing to 
give up or put off her own pleasure, and this was 
the case to-day. 

Though Mrs. Tavish had hoped to start early that 
afternoon it was four o’clock by the time she was 
ready to go. Nanny wore her Sunday hat and in her 
neat white dress, her mother thought she looked as 
lovely as a jDicture, but she did not tell the little girl 
that. Mrs. Tavish was dressed in black, and she car- 
ried a large clothes basket. How Nanny hated that 
basket for it told every one that her mother was a 
washerwoman. 

When Nanny found their way was taking them 
through the street Helen Blun lived in, she pulled 
her mother’s arm ; 

“Don’t go this way, mamma ; take the next street.'’ 

“ Why, Nanny, this is a much nicer street than 
the next one. What is the reason you don’t want to 
go this way ?” 

“One of the girls in our class lives on this block,” 
said Nanny, speaking as if she did not want to tell 
the reason. 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 31 


And what if she does ^’’said Mrs. Tavish much 
surprised, and turning shortly and looking at 
Nanny. 

“Are you ashamed of me?’’ she went on, 

“No ; mamma, but I’m ashamed of the basket, and 
I don’ t want Helen Blun to see that you’re a washer- 
woman.” 

Mrs. Tavish sighed, but she turned so as to take 
the next street, and after a moments silence, she said : 

“If Helen Blun did see the basket dear, there 
would be nothing wrong about it ; since your 
mother is a poor widow, people of sense would only 
respect her the more for honestly working to support 
you and herself. No right minded person will look 
down upon you, Nanny, because your mother 
washes clothes for a living.’ ’ 

Nanny said nothing. 

When they had walked a half dozen blocks — in 
those days the lines of street cars were few— a turn 
brought them near Lizzie Morrell’s home ; but Nanny 
would not mind if Lizzie should see the basket, Liz- 
zie was not rich, nor boastful like Helen. 

There seemed to be great excitement in the street ; 
knots of women were talking on the sidewalk, and 
in the doorways, while the undertaker’s shop held 
four, or five men talking also. But everybody looked 
amused, and some were laughing. The only one who 
seemed solemn, was Oleander Thimig ; he leaned 
against the door post of the shop and looked down 
at his feet in a very mournful way. 

Mrs. Tavish and Nanny wondered at the excite- 
ment, and all at once they saw a large, coarse look- 
ing woman come out of one of the houses and go to- 
ward a group of the women. 

“That’s Lizzie Morrell’s aunt,” whispered Nanny 
pulling her mother’s sleeve. 

Mrs. Tavish began to walk slowly so as to have a 
good look at this strange woman : Helen Blun’s de- 
scription of her, “a feather bed’’ was not a bad one, 


32 ^ cm VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 

for her waist was just as broad as her shoulders. Her 
calico dress was short enough to show her untidy 
feet, and her hair pretty enough if it had been pro- 
perly cared for, lay in a loose, tangled coil on her 
neck. Her light blue eyes looked smaller than they 
were because her face was so large and fat, but she 
had a well-shaped pleasant looking mouth filled 
with strong, even teeth. She rested her hands on 
her hips and seemed to be as much excited as any of 
her neighbors. On reaching the group of women she 
talked so loudly that every word was heard by 
i^’anny and her mother. 

‘‘I gave it to her, this time ; she’ll never repeat 
that trick while her name is Lizzie Morrell.” 

“Oh, mamma!” whispered Nanny, “ Lizzie has done 
something, and her aunt has punished her.” 

Mrs, Tavish began to walk quickly again, and 
Nanny keeping up with her, felt verj^ thankful 
that her mother was not like Mrs. Morrell, she was 
full of pity for Lizzie, and she even felt sorry for 
having been ashamed of the clothes basket. She had 
rather a thousand times have her mother a washer- 
woman, than have her a vulgar woman like Lizzie’s 
aunt, and to make up for her pride, she went round 
to the side of the basket and said, laying her little 
fingers on the handle ! 

“Can’t I help you just a little bit to carry it, 
mamma ?” 

Mrs. Tavish allowed the child to take one end of 
the basket for a few moments, understanding well 
the thankfulness and affection that had prompted 
the offer. 

Nanny could not stop thinking of Lizzie Morrell 
for a long time. Elit at last the green hills, the pretty 
houses, the lawn sloping down to the water’s edge, 
and more than all, the sunset with its golden and 
purple colors streaming from sky to sea, filled her 
with delight, and crowded out unpleasant memories. 

When they left the boat and took the country 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 33 


road leading to the hotel the scent from the garden 
hedges and the early spring flowers made a song in 
her heart ; she told herself she would put it into 
words sometime. 

The hotel gave her new wonder and admiration ; 
it seemed to be set amid hedges and flower beds 
while in front of it was a lawn that sloped to the 
water. In the broad entrance hall she pulled her 
mother to stop a minute so that she might look into 
the elegant parlors ; there was one on each side of 
the hall, and she never had seen rooms so large 
and splendid before. 

They had to go up a flight of stairs to get to Miss 
Ingoldsby’s suite of rooms, and when Mrs. Tavish 
knocked at the door of the private parlor, Miss 
Ingoldsby’s maid opened it. In a moment the young 
lady herself appeared from another room ; she was 
tall and slight and had big brown eyes, very yellow 
hair, and a face as white as her snowy cashmere 
dress. 

To Nanny she seemed like a vision, and as she came 
forward with a smile to greet Mrs. Tavish, Nanny 
thought she had the face of an angel. 

“ Is this your little girl, Mrs. Tavish, your own 
little daug liter ?” the lady asked. 

“To be sure, Miss,” said Mrs. Tavish, setting down 
her basket, and turning to look at Nanny with pride 
and delight.” 

“ But she does not look a bit like you,” said Miss 
Ingoldsby. 

“ No Miss ; she takes after her father.” 

“Just wait a moment, Mrs. Tavish, I want to call 
my father to see her.” 

Mrs. Tavish waited, smiling f(^|dly at Nanny. 

Mr. Ingoldsby came back with Ins daughter : he was 
very stout, very pompous looking and he seemed 
very cross ; at all events he took no notice of Mrs. 
Tavish’ s courtesy but said at once : 

“ What do you want with me, Cornelia 


34 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

“ I want you to see this little girl,” she answered 
pleasantly. 

“ Now Cornelia,” he said half angrily. “I hope you 
are not going to add this child to the children you 
spend so much time with in the city. Your family 
have had more than enough of such children.” 

Miss Ingoldsby laughed. 

“Don’t be afraid, pa ; I only brought you in to 
have you see how much she looks like Egbert. 

Her eyes, her mouth, the shape of her face,” Miss 
Ingoldsby went on, “ are just exactly like Egbert’s.” 

“Nonsense, Cornelia ; you are just full of imagina- 
tion,” but while he spoke the testy old gentleman 
went toward Nanny. She shrank closer to her moth- 
er’s side, and that seemed to make him angry. 

“Jusr stand still little girl,” he said, “I am 
not going to hurt you. I only want to show my 
daughter how silly she is in thinking the child of 
her washerwoman could look like our Egbert,” 

But pa,’ said Miss Ingoldsby.” 

“But daughter,” interrupted the old gentlemen, 
“don’t you think this nonsense has gone far enough ? 
Now, I suppose, we shall have this poor woman 
thinking her child is something extra, because of the 
foolish things you have been saying ; and as for 
looking like Egbert, she doesnt a bit — a number of 
children have eyes and hair the same color as his.” 

“Yes, the same color,” said Cornelia, thoughtfully, 
“ but there is more of a likeness to Egbert than the 
mere color, and I know if Edwin were here he would 
say so too.” 

Mrs. Tavish during this coversation had busied 
herself sorting over the clothes apparently con- 
fused and ill at e^e. 

“ You will bring your little girl again,” Miss 
Ingoldsby remarked as her father left the room. “I 
feel quite an interest in her,” and then going to a 
table where there was a beautiful camelia in a tall 
slender glass vase, she took the flower and gave it to 
Nanny with a smile. 


A CHIVALRO U8 DEED, AED WHAT CAME OF IT. 35 

“ Thank you,” said the child in a low tone of de- 
light, and as she turned her eyes full on Miss In- 
goldsby’s face, the young lady remarked wistfully: 

“I wish Edwin were here ; I know he would think 
as I do.” 

Nanny was impatient to get out of the house so 
as to ask her mother all sorts of questions, and as 
soon as she left the hotel she began : 

“ Who is Egbert, mamma ?” 

“ I don’t know, dear” said Mrs. Tavish. 

‘‘ Can’t you guess mamma, who he is ? 

“No, dear.” 

“ Well who is Edwin, then ?” 

“ He is Miss Ingoldsby’s brother.” 

“ Have you ever seen him ?” 

u Yes ” 

“ Do i look like him ?” 

“ Not at all ; he looks like his sister.” 

“ Where is he now ?” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ Has Miss Ingoldsby any more brothers, and has 
she sisters, mamma, and is her mother here ?” 

“ I don’t know much about the family, dear ; I 
have been washing for them only a little while. I 
think Miss Ingoldsby’s mother is dead, and that she 
has no sister ; whether she has more brothers than 
one, I dont know ; and now, darling, I am a little bit 
tired of so many questions.” 

“ But, just one more, mamma ; dont you think it 
is queer that 1 should look like Egbert, and wouldn’t 
you like to see him ?” 

The hand that Nanny held grew cold all at once, 
and as the child looked up into her mother’s face she 
saw that it was as white as the face of the dead. 

“ Oh, mamma ! how white you are ; are you 
sick ?” 

“No dear ; but I am very tired ; let us hurry and 
get home, and then a cup of tea will make me feel 
better.” 


36 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WBAT GAME OB'' 1 T. 


Nanny’b anxiety about her mother took away for 
the time all desire to ask more questions, and she 
walked on quietly ; but, after a little, when Mrs. Tav- 
ist seemed better, the little girl could not keep from 
thinking a great deal about the Ingoldsbys. She was 
going to put Egbert and the beautiful Miss Ingolds- 
by into her next little story. It was almost like a 
story already, that she herself should look like this 
mysterious Egbert, and that Miss Ingoldsby should 
have given her that beautiful flower. Its very per- 
fume seemed to bring her new and delightful fancies, 
and so deeply did they absorb her that she had no 
more wish to speak. 

Mrs. Tavish also was deeply thinking, but it was a 
very different kind of thought from Nanny’s. 

When they reached home how poor and even mis- 
erable the little place seemed to the child ; it was so 
different from Miss Ingoldsbys elegant home. It 
made Nanny sad, and while her mother was getting 
the supper, Nanny sat and thought how happy Miss 
Ingoldsby must be ; she was so beautiful, she lived 
in such a grand house, and then she was related to 
Egbert, for of coarse Egbert must be somebody very 
dear. Miss Ingoldsby had said he was a member of 
the family ; he must then be her brother, and he 
must also be young and handsome. 

Not that Nanny thought she herself w^as hand- 
some ; indeed, since she did not have golden hair 
and a pink and white skin like Helen Blun, she was 
sure she was not at all good looking, but this un- 
known Egbert, being a man could be handsome 
without golden hair. 

She was still busy with her dreams when her 
mother called her to supper. She felt alarmed when 
she saw how ill and tired and sad her mother looked. 
What if her mother should die ? The thought almost 
made her heart stop beating. 

What were a thousand Egberts and Miss Ingolds- 
bys, and all the grand houses in the world, to her 


A GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 37 


darling mother? her heart was ready to break with 
remorse, and the first mouthful of her supper seemed 
to choke her, while her tears trickled into the cup 
she held to her lips. Her mother saw her crying. 

‘‘Nanny,^’ she said, “what is it, darling ?” - 
“Oh, mamma ! I have been so wicked ; I felt so bad 
because our house isn’t lovely and grand -like Miss 
Ingoldsby’s, and then I thought if God should make 
you die because I was so wicked. Oh, mamma ! ” 
getting up and going to her mother’s lap. 

“God won’t take you, if I don’t have those wicked 
thoughts any more, will He ?” 

“ I hope not, my dear,” and Mrs. Tavish pressed 
the little girl to her bosom and kissed her fondly, 
but while she did so she wondered with a sinking 
heart, if they would take the child from her. 


38 ^ CniVALBO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


C H A P T E R VI. 

For two hours Lizzie Morrell remained locked in 
her room, but she was working at the picture on the 
easel, and doing that, she forgot her angry aunt till 
she was once more made to think of her by hearing 
Mrs. Morrell’s voice just outside the door again. This 
time, however, the vioce was not only less angry, but 
it was even somewhat kind. 

‘‘Come out to your supper, Lizzie,’’ she said “and 
then you’ll have to go for Dad’s medicine. The 
bottle and the money are on the kitchen table.” 

Mrs. Morrell went immediately away, as if to 
show the child she did not mean to punish her. 
But Lizzie did not come forth till she was sure that 
her aunt had not only gone, but gone out. 

Then, without a thought of her supper, though 
she was very hungry, she rushed in to her uncle’s 
room. He was still in his chair and in the some- 
what dim light of the lamp on the mantel his large 
figure in its bright red bag-like garment looked more 
like a great boiled lobster than ever. 

The parrot had been put in a corner so as to give 
place on the centre table to Mr. Morrell’s sapper, and 
the dishes were still there with their contents un- 
tasted. Mr. Morrell nodded and smiled when he 
saw the child, and as she darted forward to him, he 
said : 

“ It’s all blown over now, little girl, aint it ? Least- 
wise, Maria didn’t seem so angry before she went 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 39 

out, and you don’t look as if you had any temper 
now.” 

‘‘ No ; I haint now ; I haint any time, when she 
lets me alone. But you didn’t eat your supper, 
Dad.’' 

“I didn’t feel much like it thinking of your hid- 
ing away in your room, and knowing you didn’t 
have any. So, I told Maria to leave it there. I 
thought maybe she’d go out and then when you 
came in to see me we’d have onr supper together.” 

“ You dear, darling Dad !” she said, kissing him, 
and then she began to arrange the tray ; it held only 
a little earthenware pot of weak tea, a plate of dry 
toast, and another plate of raw sliced tomatoes with- 
out pepper or vinegar; both butter and seasoning be- 
ing forbidden to Mr. Morrell on account of the rheu- 
matism. 

The invalid watched Lizzie lovingly as she poured 
out the tea, cut up his toast, and began to feed him, 
and she did not think of herself, till he said he 
would not take another bite unless she brought in 
her own supper ; then it took three journeys to the 
kitchen to satisfy him that she had really brought 
all that was necessary. In her case it was not at all 
a scanty supper, for beside bread and butter and 
milk there were cold meat and preserves left for her 
by Mrs. Morrell. “It’s awful nice,” she said be- 
tween the mouthfuls she gave to her uncle, and the 
mouthfnls she took herself, “eating here just by our- 
selves. Don’t you think so, Dad?” 

Dad nodded, his mouth being too full to speak, but 
his face looked all the satisfaction the loving heart 
of the child could wish. And the child was so 
happy that when the clock struck, showing she 
must have been nearly an hour with her uncle, it 
seemed to have been only a few minutes, and she 
started in dismay. 

“Oh, Dad ! I forgot — I’m to go for your medi- 
cine.” 


40 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


“Well then, dear, run along now ; it’s quite a 
distance you know. Never mind them,” as Lizzie 
began to gather the dishes so as to take them back 
to the kitchen. 

“ Maria ’ll be in soon to help me to bed, and I’ll 
tell her that I wouldn’t let you wait to do it.” 

So, Lizzie knowing she would not see her uncle again 
till the morning, kissed him good night, ran to the 
kitchen, snatched up the bottle and the money, and 
then hurried to her own room for her bonnet. It 
was too dark to find it without a light and she went 
back for the kitchen lamp, that Mrs. Morrell had 
lighted before she went out. 

In her haste Lizzie forgot to put the lamp back, 
and she forgot also to shut the door of her room. It 
remained wide open with the light from the lamp 
showing full on the easel. 

It was a long distance to the apothecary shop 
where Mr. Morrell’s prescriptions were always filled : 
and to night Lizzie enjoyed the walk more than 
usual, and she went more slowly. That little talk 
with her uncle had made her very happy and the 
bright, balmy evening gave her new delight. She 
looked up at the stars thinking of the stories Dad 
sometimes told her in his simple way, of God’s care 
and love for every one, and somehow, almost without 
knowing it herseif, there seemed to go forth from her 
little heart a sort of silent prayer to be made gentler, 
kinder, and more patient even with her coarse, quick 
tempered aunt. Then her thoughts went to the draw- 
iiig she was making for Dad ; it was nearly finished, 
and her cheeks glowed and her big black eyes 
sparkled with delight. 

, Mrs. Morrell had gone to visit a neighbor, and the 
gossip was so pleasant that she forgot her husband 
was waiting for her ; but when she thought of him she 
started up and went home at once. His quiet and 
patient attitude touched her at first but when her 
eyes fell on the double array of dishes she knew that 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 41 

Lizzie had had her supper with her iiucle, and of 
course they had been talking about her ; and these 
thoughts kindled the ugly temper again. 

Mr. Morrell said gently : 

“ Lizzie had her supper in here with me, and I 
told her as she had so far to go for the medicine, not 
to mind putting away the dishes.” 

^ “Of course you told her that, Bartholomew Mor- 
timer Morrell,” answered his wife putting her 
hands on her hips, “of course you told her to leave 
everything for your hard-worked wife to do, of 
course it isn’t enough that T mustn’t keep her a day 
from school to help me, but I musn’t even expect 
her to put a few dishes away, and when I go out to 
have a few minute’s rest in a neighbor’s house, of 
course everything must be left for me to do when I 
come back, no matter how tired 1 am.” 

“Now, Maria, ” said her husband, don’t on so ; 
it is all my fault. Lizzie wanted to put the things 
away, but I wouldn't let her. ” 

“ Of course it’s all your fault, Bartholomew, 
Mortimer Morrell, and it’s always your fault — if 
you didn’t take that child’s part the way you do, 
she’d mind me ari l have proper respect for me. 
Look at the way you encourage her in that tom- 
foolery of making pictures; no wonder she’s growing 
up the wild, idle spitfire she is.” 

“Maria, Maria ! ’’again said her husband, “that’s 
the only pleasure the poor little orphan creature 
has, and it does no one any harm, and if you would 
only try to be gentler with her, she would be better, 
I know she would.” 

But this only made his wife more angry, and Bar- 
tholomew laid his head back in the chair and closed 
his eyes in order as he used to say so often, to have 
patience with human nature. 

Mrs. Morrell finding he did not answer her began 
her nightly work of changing the bandages on his 
limbs ; usually she was tender in her touch but to 


42 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 

night she was rough. She knew she hurt him for she 
felt him tremble and wince, but he never said a 
word. If he would only speak, reproach her, scold 
her, say something, she could bear it better than 
this gentle, patient silence. At length she stopped 
her work for a moment and looked up at him ; his 
eyes were still closed but his face was white and 
drawn from pain. Her anger fled at once and tears 
rushed to her eyes but she brushed them away, and 
after that her touch was so gentle that her husband 
opened his eyes in surprise and looked at her; but he 
still thought it better to say nothing, till she had 
helped him to his bedroom ; then, while his hand 
yet rested on her shoulder, he bent his head, and said 
as he kissed her : 

“ Grood night, Maria, my dear ! ’’ 

The loving tones seemed to stay with her after he 
had gone to bed, and she moved about the room more 
quietly than usual. 

On her way to the kitchen, Mrs. Morrell passed 
Lizzie’s room, the door wide open and everything 
plainly seen in the bright light of the large kitchen 
lamp. She stopped in sudden angry surprise ; it took 
but an instant to change her gentleness to anger. 

“ To carry the lamp to her own room and to leave 
it lighted like that ” she said to herself, ‘‘as if we 
were millionaires to be wasting oil in that way.” 

The excited woman put the tray down Just where 
she stood, and went straight into Lizzie’s room, see- 
ing the very first thing, the table upside down. That 
made her so angry she did not at first know what to 
do, then she gave it a kick that sent the pencils, 
paints and drawing cards in all directions. The next 
thing in her way was the easel, and when she found 
it was held up by her old clothes horse, her blood 
boiled in her veins. It made no difference that she 
herself no longer used the clothes horse. With one 
blow she threw it down and picking up the nearly 
fiinished sketch she tore it into scraps. Then 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 43 

slie dragged the clothes horse out of the room. 

“I’ll teach her, ” she said to herself, “ to take 
things that don’ t belong to her, and to turn tables up- 
side down. But it’s no wonder, the way Bartholo- 
mew lets her spend her time — well, I’ve given her 
drawing enough for one while.” 

She took up the lamp and went back to the kitchen, 
but the moon had risen, and it was shining through 
the window showing plainly the ruin Mrs. Morrell 
had wrought. 

When Lizzie returned her aunt was nowhere to be 
seen and she was glad of it. The door of her own 
room was wide open as she had left it, and the moon- 
light was showing everything almost as plainly as if 
it were the middle of the day ; the broken easel, 
the torn sketch, the scattered paints and pencils 
and cards — Lizzie saw them all. Too well she under- 
stood what had taken place, and her blood seemed 
to get like fire in her veins. Her first thought was to 
rush to her aunt, and take as much revenge as she 
could do with her hands and teeth, and she even 
turned toward her uncle’s room feeling sure Mrs. 
Morrell was there, but the thought of her uncle stop- 
ped her ; she knew how distressed he would be, and 
she turned back. But her heart was bursting, and 
waiting only to shut the door she flung herself with a 
low cry on the floor beside the scraps of the sketch. 

All the fond work of weeks was gone ; the one 
little pleasure that filled her whole life was ruined by 
this heartless woman. How she hated her ; how glad 
she would be to see her dead, and then with a sort 
of savage joy she began to picture Mrs. Morrell lying 
in her coffin. 

At length, having cried till no more tears would 
come, and getting tired of lying with her face to the 
floor, she turned on her side resting her head on her 
hand. That brought her opposite a very bright star 
which shone brilliantly through the open window. 

It seemed to her like the eye of one of the angels 


44 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF 11. 

Dad had told her about ; perhaps the angel was look- 
ing at her in sorrow for her wicked feelings. She 
knew it was very wrong to wish Mrs. Morrell would 
die, but how could she help it, when Mrs. Morrell 
was/so cruel. 

At length, she fell asleep, her cheeks as red as 
though they were painted, and her long black eye- 
lashes shining from the tears that still rested upon 
them. 

Mrs. Morrell was in her husband’s room having gone 
there to tell him what she had done in Lizzie’s room, 
but finding him asleep, she began to gather up and 
fold the bandages he had worn during the day. Thus 
at work, she did not hear Lizzie come in, and when 
two hours after she went to lock the kitchen door 
for the night, she wondered at not having seen nor 
heard the child, and to be certain that she had come 
in she went to the little girl’s room. 

Tr^dng the door and finding it unlocked she en- 
tered. She was touched at the sight of the little 
creature lying asleep in the midst of the scattered 
remnants of her beloved work, and for the first time 
perhaps, Mrs. Morrell felt how precious that work 
was to the heart of the child. 

“I wish I hadn’t done it,” she said to herself, ‘‘but 
it’s too late now,” and she stood looking down at the 
sleeping figure. 

“ She oughtn’t to be left there,’’ she went on to 
herself, “it’s bad for her to be on the floor that way, 
but if I stir her she’ll wake and go at me like a cat, 
maybe ; and if I shut the window that’ll wake her. 
I’ll just cover her from the night air.” 

Not finding any garment of Lizzie s at hand, she 
brought her own shawl, and put it carefully over the 
little girl. Then she went out closing the door of the 
room very softly. 

Lizzie awoke from her sleep in the early morning 
when nobody seemed to be up but the miliiman with 
his noisy cry, and the rag-picker poking in the gar- 
bage barrel. 


A CBIVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 45 

Her youth and health had made her sleep well 
enough on the hard floor but neither her youth nor 
health could banish the grief and anger running riot 
in her heart ; she felt it as soon as she opened her 
eyes, and knowing at once whose shawl it was that 
covered her, slie flung it off ; then she kicked it out- 
side the door where it lay in an ignominious heap. 
She felt so miserable and so wicked, but instead of 
trying not to give way to her bad thoughts, she 
yielded to them more and more. She went over to 
the open window but the beautiful morning did not 
make her feel any better ; she must do something to 
Mrs. Morrell for all Mrs. Morrell had done to her. She 
had a full view of the undertaker’s shop from where 
she stood ; she could see hanging outside of the door 
the piece of slate where orders were written when 
there was no one in the shop to take them ; her keen 
sight even could discern the stub of a pencil tied by a 
dirty cord to the slate. 

Seeing all that put into her mind something very 
wicked ; so wicked that at lirst she put the thought 
away with horror ; but it came back and it brought 
with it so many other thoughts to make it seem right 
that she gave way to it. Without waiting to put on 
her hat she went out softly through the kitchen un- 
locking the door so quietly that not a sound was 
heard. On she went to the undertaker’s shop, meet- 
ing only a few laborers going to work, and when she 
reached the slate — she could hold it easily by stand- 
ing on tiptoe — she looked about to see if any one 
were in sight. 

Lizzie’s writing could be easily read but her spell- 
ing always gave her trouble, and just now she was 
in such a hurry she could not stop to think about 
it. This is what she wrote : 

“Mister Brush send a cofin for Mrs. Morrell if 
you don’t send it soon she wil smel orful.” 

Then she turned away and ran as fast as she could 
till she had put two full blocks between her and the 


46 ^ GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WEAT GAME OF 1 V. 

order she had left. Of course, when that order was 
read Mr. Brush would send the coffin, and what 
would Mrs. Morrell, and even Dad do to her. She 
wished she hadn’t written it, and at length she 
made up her mind to go back and rub it out, but 
she had taken so long to decide, that when she got 
in sight again of the undertaker’s shop, it was open 
and both Thimig and Mr. Brush were there. 

Her heart failed her ; she could not let them know 
that she was the author of this mischief, and so 
she ran away again. She was getting very hungry 
and she began to think longingly of her breakfast 
of oatmeal porridge and milk with plenty of good 
bread and butter : the very thought of it made her 
mouth water, but she walked on further and further 
away from home, her barehead not causing any 
notice ; it was Saturday and there were in that 
crowded neighborhood a good many other bare- 
headed little girls. 

She could not bring herself to go further than a 
few blocks from home for that would seem to be 
so far from Dad, and the more tired and hungry she 
grew the more her poor little sad heart longed for 
her uncle. She thought that even he by this time 
must have found out what she had done and that he 
must be very angry with her. How could she ever 
go home and meet him ? No ; she would never go 
home ; she would just stay out in the street till she 
died. She felt so bad and so hungry now, that she 
thought she would die soon, any way and then Dad 
would forgive her, and even Mrs. Morrell, maybe 
when she saw her lying dead would feel sorry for the 
way she had treated her. She wondered if anybody 
were looking for her now ; she hoped not for she 
wanted to be found dead. 

She was passing a fruit stand just then, and the 
woman who kept it seemed to be taking her break- 
fast ; she was eating a big slice of bread and butter, 
and drinking coffee from a can. The odor of the cof- 


A CBIVALHOirS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 47 

fee made Lizzie cast a longing look toward the stand, 
a look that told of the child’s hunger to the kind- 
hearted woman and she said : 

“Stop, Sissy !” in such a kind way that Lizzie turned 
back. 

“ You look as if you hadn’t had any breakfast,” 
the woman went on, “ will you have a bit of mine ? 
I have more hot, coffee here than I want to drink, 
but I haven’t anything to pour it into— if you don’t 
mind drinking out of the can.” 

There was such true kindness in the voice it made 
a lump come into Lizzie’s throat, and she had to shut 
her teeth hard so as to swallow the lump, and also 
to keep her tears back, but for all that her lip trem- 
bled as she said : 

“ I didn’t have any breakfast, and T don’t mind 
drinking out of the can if you can spare it, and w^hen 
I get money I’ll come and pay you for it.” 

“No, darling : you musn’t think of that. I’m glad 
enough to have it here to give you.” 

She x>ressed upon Lizzie a big slice of bread and 
butter to eat with the coffee, and she did not ask a 
single question. 

She saw there was trouble in the child’s face and 
she felt it were better to win the child’s confidence 
first ; then perhaps, she would of her own accord tell 
her story. 

But Lizzie feeling much better after she had taken 
the bread and coffee had less wish than ever to tell 
anything about herself, and when she had again 
spoken her thanks, she was turning away without 
saying anything more, but the woman stopped her 
to press an apple into her hand. Lizzie put it back. 

“ I can’t take it,” she said, “when I’ve no money 
to pay for it and when I don’t need it. I took the 
bread and coffee because I was very hungry, and I’ll 
try to pay you for them some day. Good bye.’ ’ 

She was off and partly down the street before the 
woman could make up her mind what to say. 


48 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 

Lizzie began to be sorry she had taken the bread 
and coffee, for they made her feel so much stronger 
she was sure she would not die. 

She sat down on the curb of the sidewalk with 
some little children whose bare legs hung over the 
dry gutter, and she tried to think what she should 
do. 

At length she grew tired of sitting on the curb- 
stone and she thought she would just go in sight of 
the undertaker’s shop, and find out what was going 
on. She might be able to do that without having any- 
body tell her aunt ; so she got up, and went on 
slowly looking carefully on every side. 

There was no one anywhere near the coffin shop 
and Lizzie seeing that, grew bold enough to go up to 
the very door. She saw at a glance there was no- 
body inside, and that a very large coffin rested on 
the trestles ; in another moment she saw why there 
was nobody on the sidewalk near the shop ; every- 
body had been drawn by some excitement down the 
street. 

A great crowd was in front of Lizzie’s house, and 
right before the door she saw the undertaker’s large 
open wagon with the big ice box which she knew so 
well. 

Pear and horror kept her standing as if she were 
fastened to the spot, but no one was near enough to 
notice her. 

All at once the crowd parted as if in some alarm, 
and Lizzie saw coming toward her Mrs. Morrell and 
Oleander Thimig. Mrs. Morrell was holding him by 
the collar, and a more frightened creature never was 
seen. His hands were clasped piteously, his knees 
were drawn up, and the woman was actually drag- 
ging him with but a chance touch of his feet to the 
sidewalk. That sight broke the spell which bound 
the little girl, and she turned and darted into the de- 
serted coffin shop, feeling if she tried to flee further, 
she would be caught and killed. But where in the 


A CHI VALRO US HEED, ANH WHA T GAME OF IT. 49 


shop should she hide ? There was a closet but it wa^ 
locked ; and as she heard the terrible sounds coming 
nearer, she grew desperate. If she went under the 
trestles that held the coffin, she would be found at 
once ; the only thing she could do was to get into a 
coffin that was flat on the floor and close to the wall. 

The upper part of the cover being off, she could get 
through that opening and push herself down till she 
was quite hidden. She did so, finding her quarters 
very close, but she had space enough to breathe, and 
she was so thankful to escape any where from her 
aunt that she would have gone into the grave itself : 
then also, she had played so often in the undertaker’s 
shop that she had no fear of this strange hiding place. 

Lizzie’s order for a coffin for her aunt had suc- 
ceeded but too well. Thimig reading it first and 
glad of the chance to slio w his employer how promptly 
he attended to business began preparations with- 
out waiting for Mr. Brush to get to the shop. 

“ She must have died awful sudden,” he said to 
himself, as he went into the cellar to get the tubs 
for the ice, ‘Tor I seen her yesterday. That order’s 
in Lizzie’s writing I know. I wonder wffiat she died 
of. It’ll be good for Mr. Brush, though, for may- 
be it’ll take that big coffin off his hands that was or- 
dered day before yesterday for Mr. Fairish, but his 
wife changed her mind and got a casket. I wonder 
if they’ll have satin trimmings, and who Mr. Mor- 
rell ’ll get to keep house for him ; he’s got the rheu- 
matiz so bad, he’ll want somebody more than Liz- 
zie.” 

And thus talking to himself he went on with his 
preparations for the living woman’s burial ; wffien he 
had done all he could do without help he became 
impatient for Mr. Brush to come. 

“It’ll be Just like .him to be late to-day and Mr. 
Morreiril think I didn’t tell about the order in time.” 

Mr: Brush did get to tlie shop so late it almost 
justified poor Thimig’ s complaint ; then, to add to 


50 ^ GIIIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 

Ills annoyance there was more delay in getting the 
ice, so that by the time the undertaker’s wagon was 
ready to be driven to the house of the supposed 
corpse, Mr. Brush driving, and Thimig sitting beside 
him, it was two hours after the order had been left. 

Mrs. Morrell had found her shawl in the heap 
outside of Lizzie’s door, and she knew from that how 
angry the child must have been. This made her so 
furious that when the breakfast was ready she would 
not call the child. “ I’ll let her stay in there till she 
starves if she wants to,” she said to herself, “ but I 
guess when she gets hungry enough she’ll come 
out.” 

Yet, for all her anger she did not put away the 
dishes placed for Lizzie’s breakfast, and even kept 
the oatmeal porridge on the stove to have it warm for 
her. 

When Mr. Morrell asked for his niece his wife 
•muttered that Lizzie was busy in her own room ; he 
thought it strange but he did not say anything, and 
when the hours wore on, Mrs. Morrell thought it 
strange too, and she realized that she ought to go to 
the child’s room. But this idea was very distaste- 
ful, and she tried to stifle the feeling by busying 
herself about her husband a great deal more than 
usual. 

Mr. Morrell was sitting in his wonted spot and 
looking as queer as ever in his red garments. The 
parrot also occupied its wonted place on the centre 
table, and it seemed very happy as it strutted and 
held its head to one side. 

Perhaps one reason of its happiness was that Mrs. 
Morrell had scoured its cage ; the scouring was a 
sure sign that her spasm of house cleaning was com- 
ing on. 

All at once there was the sound of something very 
heavy being dragged along the passage ; it made Mr. 
Morrell look up in surprise and Mrs. Morrell stopped 
short in her walk across the room. The heavy thing 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, A ND WHA T CAME OF IT. 51 

stopped at the door and then a loud knock was heard. 
Mrs. Morrell opened the door. There stood Oleander 
Thimigand at his feet an undertaker’s tub filled with 
ice and behind him Mr. Brush and another man carry- 
ing the large ice box for the dead, while still fur- 
ther in the rear was a small army of women and chil- 
dren all drawn by the sight of the undertaker’s wagon 
and all more or less wonderstricken and shocked at 
their neighbor’s sudden death, for Thimig, being 
questioned had told every body the sad news. 

On seeing now in life and health the woman he had 
come to get ready for burial, Thimig lost all control 
of himself. His eyes bulged from his head, his very 
hair seemed to stand on end, and he sputtered be- 
tween his chattering teeth. We’ve brought the ice 
box for you Mrs. Morrell, and your coffin’s getting 
ready in the shop.” For a moment the infuriated 
woman was unable to speak ; she even doubted what 
she saw, but the ghastly articles in front of her togeth- 
er with the crowd now pressing from the stairway 
into the very passage, did not let her doubt long, and 
Thimig in his stupidity not thinking to say a word of 
the order, it flashed upon her that this was some joke 
of Thimig’ s own. She caught him by the collar. 

‘H’am dead, am I ? ” she screamed, ‘‘ well I’ 11 show 
you, you undertaking wretch, that! have life enough 
left to give you what you deserve. ” 

Thimig was so frightened he could do nothing but 
scream, but his screams further than bringing the 
whole house out into the passages, and on the stair- 
ways were of little avail. His antagonist was so much 
larger and stronger than he, that she lifted him as if 
he were a feather, and she dragged him shrieking and 
begging for mercy along the passage and down the 
stairs. Everybody fled before her ; even the men with 
the ice box almost broke their legs climbing over it in 
their haste to get out of her way. 

This was the cause of the crowd Lizzie had seen, 
and she was barely safe in her hiding place when 


52 A OmVALHO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF 11 

Thimig, still held by her aunt and followed by a 
crowd that reached to the other side of the street, 
was Jerked violently into the shop. 

Lizzie trembled and hardly dared to breathe, but 
her terror was nothing to the terror of the unfortu- 
nate boy ; he had used up his power to scream and his 
face was so white and drawn from fear that he him- 
self did not seem very unlike a corpse. 

Is this the coffin you’re getting ready for me 
asked Mrs. Morrell, pausing as she reached the coffin 
on the trestles, bat he could not answer her. 

Speak !” she said, giving him a shake. He nod- 
ded. 

“ Well, then, you’ll go into it yourself,” and lift- 
ing him, she crammed him head first into the ghastly 
thing. She might liave done more only for Mr. 
Brush ; he had forced his way through the crowd 
and had come to rescue Thimig, for, though he could 
not help laughing heartily at the humor of it all he 
pitied poor Thimig, and he said sharply to Mrs. 
Morrell that she had better punish whoever had 
written the order for her coffin ; then he showed her 
the slate. Too angry for anybody to try to quiet 
her the panting virago dropped Thimig, and turned 
to go home, some of the crowd following her, and 
others still waiting in and around the undertaker’s 
shop. 

Thimig though lie no longer felt Mrs. Morrell’s 
hands upon him, was still too frightened to lift his 
head from the inside of the coffin, till Mr. Brush, 
again laughing heartily told him more than once 
that his enemy had departed. Then he looked up 
and said : 

‘‘Oh, Lor ! I thought she had killed me.” 

That speech and his pale, frightened face, caused 
a burst of laughter from everybody in the shop and 
the laughter broke out again when somebody re- 
marked : 

“ That was a pretty lively corpse.” 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GA ME 0 F IT. 53 

Poor little cramped Lizzie ! she heard the talk and 
the laughter, but she was too much afraid of what 
might happen to herself even to smile ; she shut her 
eyes tight and wished that she might die just where 
she was. To make her presence known would be to 
give herself into the hands of her aunt, for of course, 
Thimig would want satisfaction, and Mr. Brush, and 
everybody else would think slie ought to be pun- 
ished for what she had done. 

She knew she had been very wicked ; she had 
told a terrible lie, she had made lier aunt very an- 
gry, and she had caused poor Thimig to be punished 
without deserving it. What would God say to her 
if she should actually die ? She tried to comfort 
herself by thinking that God knew all about how 
dreadful Mrs. Morrell had acted to tier, and by call- 
ing to mind how her uncle had told her that God 
loved little children. 

The closeness and heat of her hiding place made 
her drowsy, so drowsy that at length, in spite of her 
thoughts she fell fast asleep. 

Mr. Morrell could not move from liis chair to find 
out the cause of the excitement, but his door had 
been left wide open, and two women went in with- 
out being invited and told him what Thimig had told 
them. He was at once convinced that Lizzie was at 
the bottom of the mischief. He felt however that 
his wife must have done some new act of unkindness 
to the child, and when she came back after her pun- 
ishment of Thimig he could hardly wait for her burs t 
of anger to spend itself before he said : 

‘‘Maria, what did you do to Lizzie to make her do 
this to you 

“What did Ido to her? what I ought to have 
done long ago ; tore up her nasty old drawings. 
When I went into her room and found the way she 
kept things, the very table upside down, and my 
clothes horse out of the cellar without as much as ask- 
ing my leave, I thought it was time to do something.” 


54 -4 CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 


“1 knew you must have been very unkind Maria,” 
Mr. Morrell answered trying to speak quietly, ‘‘and 
that was the very cnielest thing you could have done. 
Those pictures she makes are like the apple of 
her eye, I told you sometime ago not to toucli 
them.” 

“Now, look here, Bartholomew Mortimer Morrell, 
if I can’ t touch things in my own house, you had bet- 
ter get somebody else to do your housekeeping. I’m 
not going to stand this nonsense any longer. I’m go- 
ing to be boss ; and don’ t you forget it ; and I’ m going 
this minute to look for that little wretch. She 
is liiding somewhere, and wlien I find her if you try 
to hinder me from giving her as good a whipping as 
ever she got, you’d repent it in sackcloth and ashes.” 

Her liusband in too much pain to sx)ea]vto her again, 
closed his eyes and was silent. He felt that no mat- 
ter what his wife had done it could not excuse Liz- 
zie, and he meant to tell the child so, but the thought 
of having his wife’s cruel hands u]3on her made him 
tremble. 

The parrot with his head on one side had been 
listening intently to the talk of Mrs. Morrell’s visit- 
ors ; one of them had said : 

“ I was that shocked, Mr. Morrell, I didn’t know 
where I was standing, when Thimig told me your old 
woman was dead.” 

And the parrot began : 

“Old woman’s dead ! old woman’s dead,” But Mrs. 
Morrell having gone to look for Lizzie, was out of 
sound of the bird. 

Finding that the child had not taken her bonnet, 
she thought she must be hiding somewhere in the 
neighborhood, and down she went to the street 
again, walking up and down, asking everybody, and 
getting the children to help in the search, but as no 
one thought of looking into a coffin for the child, 
she was not found, and Mrs. Morrell had to give uj) 
the search and go home. Her husband began to f^el 


A cm VALRO US DEED, A ND WE A T GAME 0 F IT. 55 

very anxious, and to fear something had happened 
to Lizzie, but when he said so, his wife laughed at 
him. 

“ Is it the like of her that would think of sending 
the undertaker for a live woman to have anything 
happen to her,” she said. '‘Don’t be such a fool, 
Bartholomew.” 

“ No matter what she’s done, or where she is,” 
answered Bartholomew sadly, “she must be half 
dead with hunger by this time, if nothing else.” 

“Well, she ought to be,” said his wife, “she 
didn’ t mind sending the undertaker’s box for me.” 

That thought closed Mrs. Morrell’s heart to every 
kind feeling for Lizzie. 

“Old woman’s dead,” began the parrot again. 
“You lying beast,” said Mrs. Morrell, as angry as 
though the bird were a human being, and she struck 
the cage with her clinched fist. “I’ll show you 
I’m not dead.” 

The blow shook the cage and made the parrot 
flutter ; then it put its head on one side and said ; 

“ 0-o-o-h ! kill Poll ! mad as fire — hate you ! hate 
you !” 

“ You won’ t hate me long then ; for if I get at you 
I’ll wring your neck, you backbiting little beast!” 
Mrs. Morrell thought birds were two legged beasts. 

She raised her hand to strike the cage again, but 
her husband called her name so sternly, he who al- 
ways spoke so kindly, that she did not have the 
courage to strike, and she flounced into another 
room. 

Lizzie did not wake from her sleep till late in the 
afternoon, and there was no one in the shop but 
Thimig, who was working at a coffin that had taken 
the place of the large coffin on the trestles. Mr. Brush, 
as he often did, when business was not brisk, had 
gone over the way to play dominoes with a couple 
of friends. 

Poor Thimig was hardly himself ; He could not 


56 -4 CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


seem to ^et over the shock Mrs. Morrell had given 
him, and his hands shook so at his work that he 
was hardly able to go on. The very stillness of the 
shop had an awe in it he never had felt before, and 
when Lizzie waking up drew a heavy breath, Thimig 
dropped thescissors hehad beenscallojung the lining 
of the coffin with, and jumped a foot from the floor. 

The sounds brought the child still more to herself, 
and she tried as quietly as she could to push herself 
up to the opening through which she had entered. 
But it was not so easy. Her muscles strained and 
cramped from their unusual position would not move 
at first, and much as she had been willing before 
she went to sleep to die Just where she was, now that 
it seemed likely to happen there, she was frightened 
and her terror made her struggle wildly to get out. 

Thimig’s hair began to stand on end, his teeth chat- 
tered and his knees trembled so that they knocked 
against each other. He wanted to run out of the shop 
but he did not seem tc aave the power to move, till Liz- 
zie, growing more frightened as she found herself un- 
able to get out, screamed. That gave Thimig power to 
run, and he shot out of the shop and over the way to 
Mr. Brush, startling that gentleman and his compan- 
ions by his looks before he said a word. 

“ Is it another live corpse, Thimig one of them 
asked, as they all waited for the terrified boy to get 
breath enough to articulate. 

“It’s something in one of the coffins,” he said ; 
“ Come quick.” 

“ A rat,” put in the other man. 

Thimig shook his head. 

“I knows rats when I hears’ em, and them noises I 
heerd just now, wasn’t no rats.” 

But Mr. Brush was already hurrying across the 
street, leaving the men and Thimig to follow. 

Sure enough, there were noises in one of the cof- 
fin’s, and the half smothered and terrified voice of a 
child crying frantically : 


A CHIVALROUS nSED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 57 

“Take me out ! take me out ! oh/somebody take 
me out!’’ 

Startled and amazed, Mr. Brush went to the coffin, 
and in a moment his strong hand wrenclied off the 
cover that had helped to confine poor little Lizzie. 

Perspiration, tears, and the dust of her close, nar- 
row bed had made her a pitiable, and at the same 
time a very laughable sight, and all the man could 
say as he lifted her out, was : 

“How in thunder, did you get in there ?” 

“I went in myself because I didn’t want Mrs. Mor- 
rell to find me,” she answered through her tears, and 
by that time the shop was filling again with curious 
people. And when it was known that the luckless 
Thimig had been frightened again by a member of the 
Morrell family, and in such a ridiculous way, the 
block was once more the scene of laughable excite- 
ment. 

In this way Mrs. Morrell was not long in hearing 
that Lizzie had been found ; neither was it long till 
she herself was in the coffin shop with her strong, 
cruel hand clutching Lizzie’s arm. 

Everybody felt sorry for the child ; indeed, her ap- 
pearance would have brought compassion from the 
stoniest heart ; but Mrs. Morrell was too angry at hav- 
ing been laughed at so much to listen to a word in 
favor of Lizzie. 

“I wouldn’t be too hard on her, Mrs. Morrell, ” said 
Mr. Brush, “ she’s only a child, and I think she suf- 
fered enough penned up in that narrow, dusty coffin.” 

But Mrs. Morrell turned on him in a way that made 
him back a little. 

“If you please, sir, she’s my niece by marriage, 
and I have a right to j)unish her when I think fit ; and 
it’s high time 1 showed a good many people about 
here, that I’m not dead yet.” 

Nobody after that dared to raise a voice in behalf 
of Lizzie, and Mrs. Morrell took her home, never for 
an instant loosening her tight hold of the child’s arm 


58 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

Poor little creature ! weak, frightened, and more 
heartbroken at the thought of how angry Dad must 
be with her than even at the thought of the whipping 
she was about to receive, every sjwk of spirit seemed 
to have gone from her. She did not even try to pull 
away from Mrs. Morrell’s clutch as she would have 
done at another time ; she was so utterly broken that 
she hardly felt it. 

Mrs.Morrell took care to go in by the kitchen door 
so that her husband should not see Lizzie, and in 
the kitchen she inflicted chastisement. Once before 
she had struck the child with tlie strap used on this 
occasion but never before had she given sucdi cruel 
blows. Lizzie tried not to cry out but the pain was too 
great and she shrieked at last in utter abandonment 
and despair. Mr. Morrell heard the scream and knew 
what caused it ; he writhed in his chair till the pain he 
himself fel t from the movement was almost as great as 
the pain of his niece, and when his wife having satis- 
fied herself went to tell her satisfaction to him he said 
only : 

‘‘Now you have punished her, send her to me.” 

It was the same tone he had used in calling her 
name when she was going to strike the parrot’s 
cage, and now that her temper cooled somewhat, it 
made her both frightened and sorrj^, and she went 
without a word to tell Lizzie. 

Lizzie was lying on the kitchen floor just where 
she had sunk wlien the last blow had left her crushed, 
sore and humiliated, for such a whipping was the 
keenest insult to her sensitive nature. Never did 
more intense hatred burn in a human heart than in 
Lizzie’s at this moment, and when she heard Mrs. 
Morrell’s voice, saying : 

“Lizzie, your uncle wants you,” she felt, if she had 
strength enough, that she would have flung herself 
upon the woman, and have torn her as a wild cat 
might have done ; but she only dragged herself up 
and went to her uncle, 


A CBH^ALEOUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 59 

Of course lie was going to soold lier ; he never did 
more than that, but this time she was sure he would 
scold her severely. She tried to prepare herself for it 
with a sort of defiance, but when she reached him 
and saw his look of love and pity, and when she saw 
him try to put out his poor bandaged arms to show 
her that he wanted her close to his heart, all her 
pride, her defiance, her hatred vanished in a hash. 

She sprang to him, nestling on his breast, and he 
said in a trembling voice : 

‘*My poor little famished darling ; you did not 
mean to do the wrong thing you did to day, I know.” 

“No, Dad, I didn’t ; I didn’t think it would turn 
out that way.” 

He held her to him as well as he could, but he did 
not speak again till she grew calm. Then he tried to 
show her in his simple way the wrong she had done, 
to soften her bitter feelings to his wife, and to win 
from her a promise of doing better. 

While uncle and niece were having this talk, Mrs. 
Morrell had gone to the street again to tell the neigh- 
bors she had punished Lizzie, and it was at that time 
Nanny Lavish and her mother jjassing by had seen a 
little of the excitement. 


1 


I 


60 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER VII. 

Helen Blun glad to get away from the scolding 
of her father and the teasing of her brothers, did 
not take long to undress herself and get into bed. 
First, however, she peeped under the bed to be sure 
that the shaker was safe, and as she drew the sheet 
partly over her face to keep it from the glare of a 
street lamp opposite, she felt very glad that she 
would not have to meet her mother till the morning. 
That gave her some hours to get courage for the lie 
she was going to tell. But, contrary to her expec- 
tations, just as she had turned for the fourth time in 
her impatience to go to sleep, the door opened and 
her mother came in. 

The light from the gas lamp showed her plainly as 
she crossed to the bed. 

‘‘xlre you asleep, Helen?” she asked sharply, 
pulling the sheet somewhat roughly from the girf s 
face. 

Helen’s heart gave a bound into her throat, and 
that kept her answer back for a moment. 

Her mother asked again if she were asleep, at the 
same time shaking her shoulder. 

“No,” was the gasping reply. 

“ What did you do with the trimming and the 
change?” 

“They’re on the table over there.’* Mrs. Blun crossed 
to the table, a small one placed between the windows. 
She unwrapped enough of the little parcel to be sure 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 61 

that Helen had made no mistake in the trimming * 
then she took up the two bills that were folded one 
within the other. 

_ “Where is the other dollar ? ”she asked, angerand 
dismay in her voice. 

‘d lost it,” came in half smothered tones from the 
bed. 

You lost it,” said Mrs. Blun, going back to Helen 
and catching her by the shoulder, You bad careless 
girl, I hate the sight of you. ” she said. This 
remark was accompanied by a stinging slap on the 
child’s cheek. 

“Didn’ 1 1 tell you to be careful of the change ? why 
didn’t you mind me ? ” 

But Helen had managed to cover her whole face 
with both sheet and quilt. 

“ You are a perfect torment,” Mrs. Blun went on, 
“ and you deserve the best whipping you ever had. I 
declare I don’t know what I couldn’t do to you for 
losing that money. How did you lose it ? ” 

‘‘ I don’t know, ” from under the bed clothes. 

Are you sure you got your right change ? ” 

Yes, I’m sure ; ” in the same half stilled voice.” 

‘‘ Did you put the money on that table when you 
came in, and has it been there ever since f ’ 

Yes.” 

‘‘ Have those children been in here to touch it ?” 

“ No ; I didn’t have the right change when I came 
into the house. ” 

Thougii Helen was willing to tell a lie about the 
change, she could not bring herself to tell a lie that 
would make some one else appear guilty. 

Oil, dear! what shall I do? that takes three 
dollars out of the amount I was saving for some lace. 

I am so vexed I’d justlike to punish you severely.” 

And Mrs. Blun did punish her severely, by vi- 
olently pulling the clothes from her face, and giving 
her three, or four such hard slaps that the little girl 
cried out from the pain. 


62 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

Helen sobbed for a little while ; then she turned 
her back to the glare of the street lamp and tried once 
more to sleep. She was glad that her lie had brought 
nothing worse and that so far, the shaker bonnet was 
safe ; but, mixed with her gladness were feelings of 
shame and guilt. All that she had ever heard of the 
terrible sin of lying came back to her now bringing 
a fear that made her shudder, and she was glad to 
turn again to the lamp, for the light seemed to take 
away some of the shadows caused by her own guilty 
dread. When she did go to sleep she dreamed tliat 
her father had found out what she did and to punish 
her had ordered her to be smothered with shaker 
bonnets. Hundreds of shaker bonnets fell on her, and 
unseen hands pressed them on her mouth and nose 
till the feeling of suffocation actually awoke her. 

Then she was astonished to find it broad daylight, 
for as she called to mind all that had taken place 
the evening before, it seemed to be only a moment 
since she had been lying unable to go to sleep ; but 
the sunshine of the lovely morning was flooding the 
room, and everything looked so bright, Helen her- 
self felt a lightness of spirit that made her almost 
forget the fear and shame she had gone to sleep with. 

The bell that called every member of the Blun fam- 
ily, even the two year old boy, from his or her bed 
at precisely six o’clock, was ringing through the 
house, and Helen, knowing that the "breakfast bell 
would also ring in a half hour sprang up to dress her- 
self ; then she remembered she was to keep her room 
all day, so it made little difference whether she made 
her toilet, or went back to bed, but, as she did not 
feel sleepy she thought she would dress herself. 

When she was dressed she took another look at 
the parcel under the bed to be sure no. one had 
stolen it during the night ; then she seated herself 
by the window to look at the sights on the street. 

In a little while she heard the breakfast bell, and 
just as soon as it had stopped ringing, she heard her 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 63 

little brothers and sisters troop forth from the room 
above her. 

Helen wondered how long she would have to wait 
for her breakfast. It seemed a long time for Jane did 
not bring it up till Mr. Blun had gone to business. 

“Your father told me Miss, to remind you of Jiis or- 
der not to leave your room all day,” the servant re- 
marked. 

‘ Helen at once began to eat ; and Jane to make the 
bed. In the turning of the mattress she spied the 
brown paper parcel. 

‘‘ Whatever that is,” she said, putting the parcel 
on the table beside the tray, “it seems to me that 
under the bed is no place for it.” 

The little girl felt so uncomfortable that she ate 
much less than usual, and when Jane had gone she 
took up the luckless shaker, and wondered how she 
could go on hiding it till Monday. Maybe Jane 
would tell Catherine, and Catherine would tell her 
mother, and then her mother would ask to see the 
parcel. Oh, dear ! how she wished she had not torn 
Nanny Tavisli’s bonnet, or, better still, that she had 
not made the rash promise of buying another, and 
just then, to her further dismay, she heard her broth- 
ers and sisters coming up stairs. 

Too well she knew that Catherine was not with 
them now ; she never was with them only when Mr. 
Blun was at home, or when it was near the time of 
his coming home. 

The whole troop would make at once for her room ; 
she was sure that was their object in coming up stairs 
now, and she had only time to put the parcel again 
under the bed, when they burst upon her. Walter, 
one of the twins, and the most mischievous of all the 
children, began to dance round Helen, and the others 
in a momen t were dancing round her too. But Helen 
was in no humor for such fun, and she tried to stop 
it by pinching and slapping wherever she could get 
a chance to do so. The children pinched and 


64 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


slapped her in return, and at length Walter and Ar- 
den each caught one of her long curls, and j)ul]ed 
her down to the floor. 

The pain she suffered from being thus dragged 
down, was nothing to her terror lest they should see 
the parcel under the bed. 

“Let me up,” she begged, “and Til give you 
something.” 

That offer made them all stop at once. 

“ What ?” asked the twins in a breath, while Lulu 
lisi)ed : 

“ What’ll ’oo dive us ?” 

Alas for Helen ! that was another rash promise. 
What had she to give that they had not taken long 
ago, except one precious thing, a beautiful picture 
book called the “ Child’s Book of Nature.” 

It had been given to lier by a gentleman who some- 
times came to see her father, and she never had dared 
to keep it anywhere except in tlie case in the back 
parlor among her father’s books. And whenever she 
wanted to look at it, she used to steal to the parlor 
locking herself in, and hardly daring to stir lest she 
should be discovered. 

It nearly broke her heart to think of giving this 
lovely book away, but she must save the shaker at 
all costs, so she said : 

“I’ll give you that picture book Mr. Townley gave 
me.” 

As they all knew of Mr. Townie}^’ s gift and how 
their sister valued it, the surprising offer to give it to 
them fllled them with delight. 

Of course she had to get it for them, and to do that 
she must disobey her father ; but the disobedience 
was so little it did not trouble her much ; and her 
brothers and sisters were so anxious to possess the 
book that not one of them gave a thought to the 
disobedience. 

They agreed to wait in the hall outside the parlor 
door while she went to the book case, and when, 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 05 

with a last, sad, longing look, she gave up the volume, 
a fight began for its possession. In the quarrel the 
book was torn and the beautiful pictures were scat- 
tered about the floor of the hall. Helen felt as if she 
could not bear it, but she said only, while tears of 
vexation filled her eyes : 

‘‘Oh how could you tear my beautiful book !” 

“You gave it to us,” cried Walter, speaking in a 
tone that showed he was quite ready to turn his at- 
tack upon her, and then seeing a chance to snatch 
some leaves that Arden held, he did so, and ran with 
them to the yard. 

Arden went after him, and the other little ones, 
without stopping to pick up the pictures ran after 
Arden. Helen sorrowfully gathered up the ’leaves, 
and went back to the parlor to put them in such or- 
der as she might, quite forgetting in her grief, and 
anxiety to save even the little that was left of the 
book, that she was disobeying her father’s command. 

After a little she heard the street door close ; that 
recalled her and she ran to one of the windows of the 
front parlor, and saw her mother go down the street. 
Then she went back to finish arranging the torn 
leaves, and as she did so, she was quite conscious of 
wrong doing, but it was so much more pdeasant in the 
large parlor than in her own room, and now that she 
knew the shaker was safe fora time at least, she felt 
more and more like staying where she was. 

She was sure the bonnet was safe for she could 
hear the children 2:)laying in the yard, and no one 
else was likely to go to her room. 

She became so interested in reading again and 
again the descriptions of the pictures, that she did not 
notice how the noise of the children had quite stop- 
ped, till she was startled by a sudden and very loud 
shout of merriment from the yard. She sprang to 
the window and from it she saw what seemed to take 
away from her all power of speech or motion. 

The children had formed themselves into a pro- 


66 A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WUA2 GAME OF IT. 

cession, Walter leading, and lie was carrying on the 
liandle of the kitchen broom the shaker bonnet she 
had left under the bed. There it was in all its glory of 
blue silk cape and ribbons, doing duty for a flag, and 
the children were marching after it with every sign 
of frantic delight. 

The little ones having grown tired of the book they 
had torn so wantonly, had stolen up to Helen’s room 
intending to burst in upon her with an Indian war 
whoop. They did so, and not finding her in the 
room ; Walter proposed they should all hide under 
the bed till she came up ; the bundle was found and 
of course opened at once, and then the children de- 
scended to the yard to have their fun out. 

Poor Helen was ready to faint. Fortunately her 
mother was out, so she could act without fear of her. 

She darted down the basement stair, and out to 
the yard. 

‘‘Walter if you don’t give me that bonnet this min- 
ute, I shall tell papa.” 

Wild fear had given to her voice and manner a 
most unusual air of authority. It brought the whole 
procession to a stop, and made Walter lower the 
broomstick. Seeing he did that, Helen went on : 

“You know what papa will do when I tell him 
you spoiled my bonnet.” 

“Your bonnet,” said Walter doubtfully, but low- 
ering the broomstick still more, “I never saw you 
with that kind of a bonnet, and what did you have 
it under the bed for 

“Because I wanted to keep it nice and clean, and 
there wasn’ t room for it in the wardrobe. Let me 
have it, Walter, and I won’t tell on you.” 

“Tell on me,” he said with boyish scorn, “I bet 
you won’t tell on me ; if you do, Pll tell on you. Papa 
said you weren’t to go out of your room all day.” 

How much longer the argument might have gone 
on, it is not easy to say, for just then the cook see- 
ing through the kitchen window the broom she had 


A cm VALRO US DEUD, AND WHAT GAME OF IT, 67 

been looking for, for several minutes, came out an- 
grily to take it. 'riiat gave a chance to Helen to seize 
the shaker and dart with it to her own room. The chil- 
dren did not follow her, Walter being more afraid of 
her threat than he would like to have owned ; he 
knew how his father always punished any want of 
care about their clotlies, how much more would he 
punish this wilful soiling of Helen’s bonnet, and 
though he wondered when she got it, and why she 
had never worn it, it did not come into his childish 
mind to think there was anything wrong in her hav- 
ing it. Poor Helen wished the shaker, Nanny Tavish 
and Lizzie Morrell were a thousand miles away, and as 
she looked at it to see what harm the little torments 
had done to it she felt like tearing it to pieces. 

It was not much the worse, and she wrapped it 
again in the brown paper which the children had 
thrown on the floor. But what to do with it after 
that puzzled her more than ever. Under the bed was 
no longer a safe place. Where should she put it ? 

In her perplexity she looked up and the top of the 
wardrobe caught her eye ; she would throw it up 
there but how should she ever get it down again, as 
the wardrobe was so high it nearly touched the ceil- 
ing. She made up her mind to thrown it there, any- 
how, and to trust to some chance to get it down on 
Monday morning ; so, she flung it up with all her 
might, but instead of going entirely over the edge of 
the wardrobe it fell midway, and one half of it stuck 
out in full view. 

It even moved to and fro for a couple of seconds as 
if it were going to fall, and Helen hoped it would, so 
as to give her another chance of throwing it out of 
sight ; but it did not, and she was in greater distress 
than ever lest her mother should come in and see it. 
Mrs. Blun however, when she came back was in too 
much of a hurry to have Catharine finish her dress, 
to give time or thought to Helen, or indeed to any 
of the children further than to keep them from an- 
noying her. 


68 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


The children were having fan in turning a little 
summer house that stood at the bottom of the large 
yard into a store where they sold clay for sugar and 
grass for vegetables, and that work kept them quiet 
till after luncheon. Then Walter wanted to change 
the store for a make believe real dwelling liouse where 
he could play at being Mr. Blun, and Susie, Mrs. 
Blun. Susie liked that idea but she wanted dishes, 
and pans and pots so as to be a real housekeeper, and 
Arden and Lulu were sent to take what they could 
without being seen, from the kitchen and dining 
room closets. The coast was unusually clear, Cook 
being out at the front area gate for a short gossip 
with a friend, and Jane doing upstairs w ork. 

The little hands under the direction of Walter and 
Susie worked well, carrying article after article till 
every pan and pot in the kitchen closet that was 
neitlier too heavy nor too large, and every dish in the 
dining room closet that did not have the same ob- 
jection, was brought out to the summer house ; and 
Walter and Susie themselves made journeys to make 
the house furnishing complete, in their zeal carrying 
away even the table goblets and some of the table 
napkins. 

Thus far they had broken nothing, though that 
was more from good fortune than care, and not one 
of them thought of closing the closet doors ; so, when 
Jane who came on the scene before Cook had ended 
her gossip, saw the empty closet shelves, her first 
thought was that a thief had been at work. She ran 
in dismay to the kitchen, seeing the same state of 
things there ; she looked out into the yard, hearing 
the sound of the children’s voices, but not seeing 
them, as they were in the summer house. Then she 
went to look for the cook, frightening that good 
woman so much by what she told that Cook left her 
friend without even saying good b} e. But Cook was 
wiser than Jane ; one look at the open and half 
empty closets was enough for her. 


A CBlVALUOdSDEED, AND W DAT CAME OF IT, 09 

‘‘It’s them villains of children,” she said, “didn’t 
they have my broom to-day with Miss Helen’s bon- 
net on the top ot it. Go down there now, where 
they’re playing, and I warrant you’ll lind every one 
of the dishes.” 

Jane did so. Cook following her, as soon as the 
children saw them they scampered in all directions, 
leaving the two women to take back the pans and 
pots and dishes amid no small amount of scolding and 
grumbling. 

Helen in her room had grown verj^ tired of having 
nothing to do ; to be sure she had lessons to study, 
but she felt so miserable about the shaker that she 
could not give her mind to study. How she longed 
for Monday in order to have done with the wretched 
thing, and as she walked up and down the room, 
casting worried glances at the tell tale parcel, she 
began to feel as she had never felt before, the unhap- 
piness of wrong doing. 

Her sin had brought already so many punish- 
ments. How much better if after making that rash 
promise to buy Nanny Tavish a shaker, she had 
made up her mind to have the courage to tell Nanny 
that she had not been able to keep her promise. 
What was the shame of saying that to what she had 
suffered since she bought the bonnet, to say nothing 
of the reproach of her conscience for her terrible lie. 
In her weariness and sadness she threw herself on 
the bed, and at length she fell asleep, and so soundly 
did she sleep she did not hear the noise made by Jane 
who was sweeping the floor of the nursery just above. 

Jane’s heavy foot shook the ceiling a little and 
caused the unsteady parcel on the ward-robe to fall 
to the ground. But even that did not wake Helen, 
nor did the coming in some time after of little Lulu. 
The child looking for amusement for herself had 
gone away from the other children, and she thought 
there might be some fun in going to her sister’s room. 
To open the parcel lying before her was fun, and at 


70 A O/IIVALnOUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

it she went, seating herself on the floor beside it, and 
soon bringing forth the shaker. 

Delighted to have it in her own hands, she put it 
on ; then she took it off, and began to look at the 
cape that Walter had said would do for a streamer ; 
pulling at it so hard she tore it a little from the 
crown. She put it on again, and getting up from the 
floor toddled over to the looking-glass, and just then 
Helen awoke. 

Was it a dream ? the bonnet that had been on the 
top of the wardrobe, now perched on the head of her 
sister ? But the sight was too real, for Lulu in great 
delight was turning her head from side to side, and 
grunting with satisfaction. With a bound Helen was 
out of the bed, and plucking the miserable head gear 
with one hand from Lulu’s head, while with the 
other she shook the child till she began to cry. 

“I’ll tell mamma on’oo,” she said, making for the 
door. 

That threat frightened Helen ; she caught the child 
and tried to pacify her. But Lulu, after the example 
of the morning made up her mind to drive a bargain. 

“What Tl’oo dive me?” she asked, stopping her 
tears. 

‘‘O, Lulu ; I haven’t anything to give you.” 

‘‘Then, I’ll tell on’oo,” beginning to cry again. 

“Well, what do you want ?” asked Helen in desper- 
ation not knowing but each moment would bring 
some one to her room before she could again hide 
the shaker. 

Lulu did not know what to ask for, but she meant 
to have some pay for her silence ; she thought a mo- 
ment, her eyes fixed on her sister’s long yellow curls. 

At length she said: 

“I want one of ’oo turls ; I want it for steamer.” 

She meant streamer. Helen was aghast, but there 
was no help for it ; the child insisted, and insisted 
also on having one of the very longest. Helen in her 
nervous fear and excitement fancying she heard 


A CHIYALRO US DEED, A ND WIIA T CAME OF IT. 71 


some one coming put the shaker under the bed, and 
went to her bureau to get a pair of scissors. 

“ Tut this un,” said the child, pulling the one she 
wanted ; fortunately, it was toward the back of the 
head and as Helen lopped it off she tried to comfort 
herself by thinking she could brush her hair so as to 
hide what had been cut. 

Lulu was satisfied and she left the room. Then 
the shaker was brought again from under the bed 
and looked at ruefully. It was beginning to show the 
effect of so much handling ; it had not quite the clean, 
new look it had when it was bought, and the rip in 
the cape was not an improvement. Helen hated the 
very sight of it, and she began to be quite hopeless 
about hiding it. It seemed to be found no matter 
where she put it. She would hardly be surprised if it 
should pop up that evening at the dinner table be- 
fore her father. But she must put it somewhere, 
and she must wrap it up once more to keep even its 
present clean look. The brown paper had under- 
gone so much handling that it was also rumpled 
and torn ; but with care she managed to use it, and 
then once more she looked about her for a place of 
hiding. An idea came to her. She put it, paper wrap- 
ping and all in one of her soiled aprons, and then 
creeping under the bed with it hung it by means of 
pins to one of the slats. In that way it could not be 
seen unless one actually got quite under the bed. 

In the meantime. Lulu, holding fast to the curl, 
had toddled down stairs, and into the kitchen look- 
ing for something to tie the curl to. She did not 
want the other children to know anything about it 
till she could show them what she had done with it 
all by herself, and she was glad they were nowhere 
in sight. With Walter as a guide they were mak- 
ing a ditch round the summer house using their hands 
for shovels, and their aprons for carts to takeaway the 
dirt. 

Cook was busy getting the dinner. Soup was 


72 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OE IT, 

Steaming on the fire, and vegetables in different stages 
of preparation were on one of the kitchen tables. On 
another table was a silver plated dish filled with bat- 
ter for a pudding, with a tablespoon in the middle of 
it. 

The kitchen at meal times was always an interest- 
ing place to Lulu, and she stood by the table where 
the pudding was, forgetting why she had come into 
the kitchen, and looking quietly about her. Her 
cunning ways and amusing lisp made her a favorite 
with all the servants, while her manner less noisy than 
that of the other children won her more indulgence. 
The cook much as she disliked to have any one in 
the kitchen when she was very busy, never said any- 
thing to Lulu ; and now as she saw the little girl 
standing so quietly, she only smiled at her. 

The table spoon sticking in the batter made Lulu 
want ever so much to stir it, just as she had seen the 
cook stir things. She knew that the reason she was 
treated with such favor was because she never med- 
dled with anything cook was doing. Cook herself 
had told her so, and often had held her up as a model 
in that respect for the older children. But, just now, 
it seemed as if she must stir that batter once, and 
taking a chance when the cook'^s back was quite 
turned she caught the spoon with the hand that also 
held the curl, and began to work it round and round 
in the batter ; an end of the curl straggled down till 
it was caught with the spoon and stirred in also. 
Lulu though that was better fun than to make a 
streamer of the hair since she did not know what to 
get to fasten the hair to, and with one eye on the 
cook, she after a little worked the whole of the long 
curl into the pudding. By the time the cook turned 
round the hair was entirely covered, and the pud- 
ding with the spoon sticking in the middle of it 
looked quite as it did before. 

Mrs. Blun in spite of her annoyance at having to 
take some of the money she was saving to buy lace, 


A Omi^ALnoOS deed, and WIIAT (JAME of it. 73 


was ill a state of great satisfaction for Catharine had 
finished her dress, audit looked just like the French 
model it had been made after. As she sent the nurse 
and seamstress to dress the children for dinner she 
never gave a thought to what they had been 
doing during the day, nor even how Helen had borne 
the confinement to her room. 

Catharine, however was not quite so satisfied ;her 
success in the dress-making line made her think a 
good deal of aski ng more wages ; that is if she were 
going to stay in the Blun family to fill two situations, 
and when she found four of the children so full of 
dirt that their heads had to be scrubbed as well as 
their faces, she was almost ready to give up her place 
at once. 

She drove them before her, and as they rushed past 
the kitchen door, cook put her head out and said to 
Catharine ; “ Here’s the gem of them all, little Lulu, 
standing as quiet and good as an angel.” 

But Catharine could see neither angels nor gems at 
this time, and she answered : ‘’There isn’t a decent 
one in the whole family.” 

Mr. Blun came home from his business that evening, 
feeling none of the satisfaction of his wife. One of 
his clerks had disobeyed a rule, and Mr Blun thought 
that the whole discipline of the store was upset there- 
by ; and the proprietor himself felt so upset by it, that 
he forgot when he took his seat at the dinner table and 
saw Helen’s empty chair, that his own order was the 
cause of her absence. 

Helen, not knowing whether her father would think 
her day of confinement over with the arrival of tlie 
dinner hour, had been afraid to go down ; but she 
had made her toilet and sat waiting to be called. 
She was afraid he would ask her if she had left her 
room, and she wondered if she should answer boldly, 
no, whether her brothers and sisters would contradict 
her statement ; perhaps not since she had only left 
the room to please them. Her fear of their tattling 


74 ^ CEIVALROVS DEBJD, AND WUAT CAME OF IT. 


was much greater than her fear of telling the lie ; it 
was only a little lie, she said to herself. 

Mr. Blun asked sternly where Helen was. Mrs. 
Blun arched her handsome eyebrows, and answered 
as if she were very much astonished : 

“My dear, you told her to keep her room.’’ 

Mr. Blun was greatly vexed ; vexed with himself 
that he had forgotten his own command, and that 
he should have been guilty of such forgetfulness in 
the presence of his family ; he was vexed also that 
his wife should have spoken to him in such a manner, 
but he cnly said that Helen’s dinner should be taken 
to her. After that everybody ate in silence. 

When the dessert was brought on and placed be- 
fore Mr. Blun, (Mrs. Blun’s judgment not being 
trustworthy in the matter of serving dessert,) and he 
began to place upon each little plate just three small 
tablespoonfuls of the tempting looking pudding, 
five x^airs of eyes sparkled with delighted expec- 
tation. But when he came to the centre of the dish, 
he lifted out something that was surely not the pud- 
ding, something that seemed to pull away from the 
spoon, and to grow long, and at length, that showed 
itself to his disgusted gaze as human hair. It was so 
discolored and matted that no one could tell it to be 
the curl Lulu had stirred into the batter, and Lulu 
with a sharpness beyond her four years, looked as if 
the discovery was as great a surprise to her as to 
everybody else. 

“Mrs. Blun,” said Mr. Blun, speaking to his wife, 
“is this the way you let your servants do their 
work 

Mrs. Blun getting very red, said : 

“I have nothing to do with the cook’s work.” 
“Then it is time that you had ; some supervision is 
necessary when such a thing as this can happen. 
Call Cook, Jane.” 

Cook was anxious to be called when she heard from 
Jane a hasty account of why she was wanted. 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 75 

“ Faith, I’ll tell him a little of what he ought to 
have known long ago,” she said, and waiting only to 
tie a clean apron about her, she went boldly into the 
dining room. 

Mr. Blun looking very stern, held up the disgusting 
thing that had been found in the pudding. 

•'And do you suppose, Mr. Blun, I’d let the like 
of that go into any dish that left my hand ? you’re 
mistaken, sir, and if you’ll inquire among your own 
unruly children maybe you’ll lind out where it comes 
from. If the people in this house that’s been hired 
to take care of the children did rake care of them in- 
stead of sewing all day for Mrs. Blun there would not 
be half the mischief done there is.” 

That speech brought Catharine to her feet with an 
angry throwing of the blame on Mrs. Blun. 

‘‘Stop !” commanded Mr. Blun, but the cook not 
in the least afraid went on : 

“I’m not afraid of your telling me to go, Mr. Blun ; 
with the like of that against me” — pointing to the 
X)udding — “and I entirely innocent of it, I’m willing 
to go. My old references will get me another place.’’ 

She went back to the kitchen quite sure it was Lulu 
who did the mischief ; she remembered liowshe saw 
her standing so long by the table where tlie batter was. 

“But, I won’t tell on her,” slie said to herself, 
“ or on any of them ; I said enough to make him find 
out for himself.” 

• She had said enough to Mr. Blun to make him im- 
patient to look into the “discipline” of his house- 
hold, and he told Catharine to put the children to 
bed, and then come to him in the back parlor. Mrs. 
Blun was very angry, and when her husband wanted 
lier to the council, she answered hotly ! 

“ You had better find out which one of your un- 
ruly children put that hair in the pudding.” 

“ Your unruly children, Mrs. Blun,” he said “to 
you is entrusted the training of them, and instead of 
wasting time trying to find out how that thing came 


76 ^ CBIVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 


K 


in the pudding, I shall find out whether the work 
which I — ” he said the ‘‘I” with great emphasis — 
“ hire people to do in this house is done, or not.” 

He did find out ; Catharine, like the cook having 
made up lier mind that it would be better to be frank 
with him, and Mr. Blun was very angry when he 
heard all, but he only said with great slowness and 
emphasis : 

‘‘You will understand, Catharine, that from this 
night forth your duties are with the children ; you 
are never to leave them for any other work in this 
house. That is one of the rules I will have main- 
tained in my family, and any breaking of that rule 
will be punished by instant dismissal without a rec- 
ommendation. Do you understand me ?” 

“Yes sir;” said Catharine very meekly. Then 
Mr. Blun said : 

“ That is all,” and she left the room satisfied that 
she had said so much, and thankful that for herself 
it had ended no worse. Mr. Blun then sternly told 
his wife that the discipline of his establishment could 
no longer be ignored. She listened, not answering a 
word, but making up her mind in secret anger that, 
in spite of his “ discipline” she would have all the 
handsome and stylish dresses she wanted. 

It never came into Mr. Blun’s mind that the hearts 
of his children were utterly undisciplined, and had 
anybody told liim he was wanting in his duty as a 
father, he would have been aghast. Did he not pro- • 
vide his family with every necessary, and was he not 
in all his business relations scrupulously honest % 
Was he not toiling to make money for his children, 
did he not teach them by his own example, punct- 
uality, order, and economy % He bitterly blamed his 
wife for her want of proper training of the children, 
but he never thought that he also was to blame. 

Helen having eaten her dinner in the solitude of 
her room, and knowing nothing of what had hap- 
pened in the dining room felt thankful that as yet no 
one knew of her iniquities. 


A GHIVA LRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME 0 F IT, 77 


CHAPTER VIIL 

It was Monday morning, a quarter before nine and 
children everywhere were hurrying to school. Most 
of them had faces as bright as the lovely morning it- 
self, and their cheerful talk about lessons, marks, 
and teachers was lively and pleasant. Our three 
little girls were on their way to school ; Helen Blun 
with her bag of books on her arm and the shaker 
carefully wrapped up in her hand. Thanks to what 
had taken place at the dinner table on Saturday 
evening slie had been saved further torment from her 
brothers and sisters, for Catharine anxious to show 
Mr. Blun that she wanted to please him, did not 
leave the children fora moment on Sunday ; nor did 
they even go into Helen’s room to disturb the 
shaker. 

On this morning, thanks to the same wholesome 
change in the household, she was able to get off to 
school without being stopped, or even noticed ; nor 
had her father of whom she saw but little the day 
before, said anything more to her than that he hoped 
her punishment would be a lesson to her never to 
pin her clothes again instead of sewing them. How 
much she thought of his advice was seen in the cape 
of the shaker : she had pinned it where Lulu had 
torn it. 

She felt none of the satisfaction she had imagined 
she should feel in being able to bring a hat to 
Nanny Tavish ; instead she felt guilty and uneasy 
and more than this she did not know a single lesson. 


78 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

Never in her whole life had she gone to school with 
such miserable feelings ; as she neared the school 
house door she tried to give herself some comfort by 
thinking, that just as soon as possible she would give 
the shaker to Nanny Tavish, and then she would not 
think anything more about it. 

Lizzie Morrell on her way to school with her bag of 
books on her arm, and in her band two cents that 
Dad had given her when he kissed her good bye, was 
thinking how much money she would need to pay 
for the breakfast the fruit woman had given her. In 
her frank confession to her uncle of how she had 
spent her time after she had written that dreadful 
order, she had'^told him of the kindness of the fruit 
vender, but she did not tell him how she meant to 
pay for that kindness. She knew if she told him 
that he would give her the money at once, and she 
felt as if she ought not to put that expense upon him. 
So long as it was caused by her own wrong doing 
she would save the money he sometimes gave her till 
she had enough to pay her debt. But how much she 
ought to have puzzled her, and she was thinking so 
deeply about it that she walked more slowly than 
usual. Her long talk with Dad on Saturday after 
her whipping had ended in a promise to him to 
iry not to hate Mrs. Morrell, and to try not to do 
things to make her aunt angry ; and Mrs. Morrell 
herself somewhat sorry for her violent treatment of 
Lizzie, tried to make up for it by a sort of rough kind- 
ness to the child all day Sunday. 

In that way there was a sort of truce established be- 
tween the two ; Mr. Morrell was thankful for it, but 
he dreaded to think how short the peace might be. 

Nanny Tavish was also on her way to school with 
her bag of books on her arm, her mother’s fond lin- 
gering kiss still tingling on her lips, and her mind 
full of its own bright happy thoughts. 

The three met at the school door with many others 
of their class mates, and every one of them cast ques- 


A GEIVA LRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 79 


tioning looks at the brown paper parcel Helen Blun 
carried. 

Lizzie Morrell with her usual intense dislike of 
Helen’s airs, could not help saying : 

^‘Why didn’t your father send a servant with you 
to carry your bundle f ’ 

Everybody laughed except Nanny Tavish and 
Helen. Nanny did not laugh because she saw how 
the speech hurt Helen; and Helen, after a moment 
of shame-faced silence, got courage to say : 

“I carried it myself because it’s the shaker I prom- 
ised to bring Nanny Tavish to pay for the one I tore.” 

Surprise, and on the part of most of the girls, 
curiosity to see the shaker which Helen had begun 
to take out of the paper, kept all silent for a moment. 
Nanny Tavish blushed, till she felt as if the blood 
had rushed even into her eyes. 

‘H couldn’t take it, Helen,” she said, putting out 
her hand to ward off the gift though as yet no at- 
tempt had been made to present it, “my mother can 
get me all the hats I need.” 

Her voice and her lips trembled as she said the 
last words, but she had drawn her little figure up 
in a way that made Helen Blun not know what to 
say next. But Lizzie Morrell was ready to speak. 

“Good for you, Nanny Tavish,” she said, “not to 
take her old shaker. I suppose she thinks nobody 
can buy hats but her father. You just tell your father, 
Helen Blun, to let you wear that shaker. It’s a good 
deal better hat than the one you’re got on.” 

“Girls, its five minutes of nine,” came from the 
monitress at the head of the stairs, “and if you don’t 
come up right away I’ll take your names and you’ll 
be counted late. ” 

That threat ended for the present the talk about 
the shaker, for the girls at once began a rushing as- 
cent to their class room. Helen, still carrying her 
parcel went a little more slowly than the others ; in- 
stead of the triumph she had expected to have over 


80 A CHIVALEO VS DEED, AND WEA T CAME OF IT. 


Lizzie Morrell, herself had turned the occasion into 
one of defeat and shame. How Helen hated her, and 
she hardly hated N^anny Tavish less for not having 
taken the bonnet. 

“But I know what I’ll do,” she thought as she got 
near the class room door. 

“At recess I’ll put the shaker on Nanny Tavish’s 
desk to show her that ^hemust take it.” 

The girls were already in line to march into the 
main room for the opening exercises, so there was 
only time for Helen to put the parcel and her books 
down and to take off her hat as fast as she could. 

The opening exercises on this morning were longer 
than usual, for after the reading, and singing, Super- 
intedent Jonas gave a lecture on the Empress Jos- 
ephine. At any other time Helen would have been 
a delighted listener, for the language of the lecturer 
was simple and the facts he told interesting, but just 
now the horrible shaker shutout every other thought. 
She could not keep her eyes from looking at Lizzie 
Morrell and Nanny Tavish both of whom happened 
to sit nearer to each other than they did to Helen, 
and as their seats were but a little in front of her and 
a good deal to her right when she turned her eyes in 
their direction she also had to turn her head. That 
violation of the perfect order required at the morn- 
ing assembly caused her name to be taken by her 
teacher, and this lady finding Helen did it again, 
squeezed herself in among the desks and said in a 
sharp whisper : 

“Helen Blun, if you don’t keep your eyes in front 
of you, you’ll stay in this afternoon till four o’clock.” 

The whisper reached Lizzie Morrell ; she was de- 
lighted that Helen Blun was found fault with, and 
she leaned toward and “made saucy eyes” at Helen 
That movement disturbed the orderly appearance of 
a whole row of girls, and before the teacher could get 
across the aisle to speak to Lizzie, she was herself 
spoken to by the stern disciplinarian. Miss Tibbetty 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHATy4JAME OF IT. 8J 


wlio bad supreme charge of the order in the main 
room. 

‘‘Miss Olden,” whispered this severe looking per- 
son, “there is more disorder in your class during as- 
sembly than in any other class in school. 1 shall 
have to report it to Miss Amer.” 

Miss Amer was the Principal, an elderly, grave 
looking lady of whom scholars and teachers were 
alike afraid. 

And as Miss Olden was young, conscientious, hard 
working, sensitive, and painfully conscious that she 
was not a disciplinarian in the sense of being able to 
keep ramrod order, the rebuke stung her keenly ; 
and did not tend to give her very pleasant feelings to- 
ward the two members of her class who had caused it. 

During the day at the different recitations in the 
class room when Helen Blun sliowed her utter want 
of study since Friday, Miss Olden gave her little 
mercy. Indeed, the poor young teacher had a great 
deal to try her that day for hardly any one in the 
class except Nanny Tavish seemed to know any- 
thing, and when she found that Lizzie Morrell in the 
midst of a geography lesson was drawing ludicrous 
pictures and holding them up so the whole class 
could see them whenever Miss Olden dropped her 
eyes to the book, she grew very angry. 

“Come here to me, Lizzie Morrell,” she said 
sharply, 

“Yes ma’am,” answered Lizzie demurely, but, as 
she had been expecting such an order should Miss 
Olden detect what she was doing, she had managed 
to wedge her dress in between the seat of the little 
iron chair and its upright support, and of course each 
time she tried to get up it was only to fall back 
more quickly than she rose to the giggling delight of 
most of her companions. 

“Are you coming ?” asked the teacher impatiently.^ 

“Yes ma’am ; I’m trying as hard as 1 can to come,” 
and as Lizzie with these words fell back with a more 


82 ^ CHIVA Lmvs DEED, AND WHA f CAME OF IT. 

sudden flop than ever, the whole class laughed aloud. 

That brought Miss Olden to the scene of the diffi- 
culty, and in desperation she tugged at Lizzie’s dress, 
freeing it at length, and marching Lizzie before her 
to the front of the room. 

In those days, while corporal punishment was 
not approved of and was even beginning to be de- 
plored by some of the best educators, it was not for- 
bidden, and teachers might use any mode of punish- 
ment providing they did not keep children in school 
all night, nor leave upon them marks of personal 
violence. Miss Olden in her anger, wanting to give 
the most severe punishment she could think of felt 
quite safe in saying : 

“Lizzie Morrell, I shall keep you in till five 
o’clock this afternoon, and I shall send word to your 
home that I am going to do so, and what it is for. 
What girl knows where Lizzie Morrell lives?” turn- 
ing to the class. 

A dozen hands went up, but foremost was that of 
Helen Blun. It would be a satisfaction to Helen to 
take that message to Lizzie’s home for all the ugly 
things Lizzie had that day done to her ; and she 
knew that Lizzie did not wish the girls to know just 
where she lived. 

“ Helen Blun, you may go during the noon recess, 
and tell Lizzie Morrell’s mother — ” 

“ I aint got any mother, ” interrupted Lizzie sul- 
lenly. 

“Well, tell her father.” 

“Aint got any father.” 

“Well, what have you then ?” asked the teacher, 
too much provoked to be touched by this confession 
of orphanage. 

“ She’s got an aunt, ” said Helen Blun half vi- 
ciously remembering the feather bed tied in the mid- 
dle. 

“ Slie aint my aunt,” said Lizzie passionately, 
“ she’s just my uncle’s wife.” 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, A HD WHA T GAME OF IT. 83 

‘ ‘ Well, ’’said Miss Olden who was now both tired 
and impatient, tell whoever you find in Lizzie 
MorrelFs home why she is going to be kept in so 
late.” 

That punishment was the most severe that could 
have been given to Lizzie ; not keeping her in after 
school hours till five o’clock, but sending such a mes- 
sage and sending it by Helen Blun. It would delight 
Mrs. Morrell to have a complaint from school about 
Lizzie, but, oh, how sad it would make D^kI, and just 
after her promise to him to try to be good. Then, to 
have Helen Blun see her tenement home ; to have Helen 
Blun climb those mean looking stairs, and perhaps 
meet on them and in the halls coarse, untidy women 
and children , Helen Blun who lived in such a fine 
house, and who had so many servants. Then she im- 
agined how Mrs. Morrell would receive the message, 
and how disgusted Helen woud be , oh, it was dread- 
ful, and she stood staring at the black-board in just 
the spot where Miss Olden had placed her, seeing 
nothing and thinking of nothing but that awful er- 
rand. The spirit of mischief had quite gone from her, 
and only for her pride she would have begged the 
teacher to give her some other punishment. 

Miss Olden, when her own anger had subsided, 
wondered that Lizzie was so quiet, and when it was 
time for the short morning recess, she said to her : 

You can go down stairs, Lizzie, and when you 
come up if you think you can behave yourself you 
can take your seat.” 

Lizzie did not answer ; but she followed the class 
from the room. 

Helen Blun remained in her seat ; she wanted to 
put the shaker on Nanny Tavish’s desk, and Miss 
Olden following the line of girls out in order to go 
into another teacher’s room, Helen’s staying behind 
was not noticed ; she placed the paper covering on 
the shaker as neatly as she could, and then managed 
by putting Nanny Tavish’s books a little out of place 


84 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


to shove the parcel quite into Nanny’s desk. After 
that she joined the girls who she knew were her 
friends, and began to boast of what she had done and 
how she would make Nanny Tavisli accept the bon- 
net. 

‘‘ Because, you know,” she said, “ when my father 
went to the trouble of buying it for her, he would be 
very angry if she didn’ t take it.” 

Her ease in telling that lie surprised herself ; she 
was not old enough to know it came from doing one 
wrong thing after another. 

“Yes;” said one of her companions, “and Nanny Tav- 
ish’ s mother is only a washerwoman ; I should think 
she’d be glad enough to get a nice hat like that.” 

‘‘ She just tries to put on airs,” said another, “ say- 
ing her mother could buy her all the hats she needed, 
when everybody knows her mother’s awful poor.” 

‘‘ And, of course,” put in a third, “ Nanny Tav- 
ishis awful proud to-day, because she’s the only girl 
perfect in lessons so far.” 

At that moment the sound of the bell hurried the 
girls to their class room. Miss Olden did not come 
in for a moment, or two, and that gave time enough 
for Nanny Tavish to find the shaker in her desk. 

Anger made her fairly dart with it to Helen Blun, 
and with face and voice full of indignation, she said: 

‘‘I told you I didn’t want your bonnet ; that my 
mother could buy me all the bonnets I need ; now, 
<lon’t you ever give that hat to me again.” 

The sight of her running across the room had 
drawn the attention of everybody, and when it was 
known why she had done so, complete silence fol- 
lowed. Then Lizzie Morrell jumped up from her seat, 
and exclaimed : 

That’s right, IS anny ; don’t you let her dare give 
you that old shaker — look at it,” taking it boldly 
out of its wrapper, and then seeing the pin in the 
cape she took it out and held it up before the class. 

“Let me have that,” said Helen Blun, making a 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 85 

dive for it. Lizzie threw it with scorn back on 
Helen’s desk, while Nanny trembling and excited 
went to her seat. Helen feeling again disgraced, 
did not know what to do more tlian to stnlf tlie 
shaker this time into her own desk, and in the act of 
doing so, the pare of her hair wliere she had cut the 
curl for Lulu, was seen by Lizzie Morrell. Here was 
another way to annoy Helen. She felt so bitter be- 
cause Helen was going on that errand, that she did 
not care what she said, or did, and Dad having told 
her about a little girl in London whose lovely curls 
were cut off and sold by a wicked woman, a bright 
idea of revenge came into her mind ; so catching 
Helen’s hair where it had been cut, she said loud 
enough for the whole class to hear : 

‘‘ Say, Helen ; did your father have to sell one of 
your curls to buy that shaker ? ” What answer 
angry and abashed Helen would have made was 
prevented by the entrance of Miss Olden. 

In those days the noon recess in the public schools 
did not mean as it does now going home to dinner, 
or luncheon for the scholars and for many of the 
teachers ; it meant an eating in the class rooms from 
lunch baskets, or boxes, of cold, hasty bites, very 
hasty on the part of many of the scholars in order 
to have more time for play in the yard. The 
teachers in many cases got together in some class 
room and made their cold bites a little more palatable 
by little pots of tea sent to them by the janitors 
wife. On those occasions the teachers like the chil- 
dren used to talk a good deal. Indeed, sometimes, 
one passing the door of the room where they were, 
would be at a loss to know their noise from that of 
the children ; but that was because those teachers, 
were mostly all young, and it seemed but a very 
short time since they themselves were little school 
girls; then, neither Miss Amer nor Miss Tibbetty 
were present to awe them into becoming propriety. 

On this day Miss Olden was the one who talked 


86 ^ GUIVALU0U8 DEED, AND WHAT CAME OB' IT, 

most during the dinner hour. What Miss Tibbetty 
had said to her in the morning, and her trouble 
with Lizzie Morrell, which now that it was past, 
could be told so as to cause everybody to laugh, 
made subjects of great interest to young women 
whose experience of life was so little. 

“ But r m going to punish her for it.” Miss Olden 
said when the laughter caused by her account of Liz- 
zie’s conduct had ceased, “1 am going to keep her in 
till five o’clock this afternoon.” 

“ You’ll be punishing yourself, ” said Miss Rob- 
son, a smiling rather stout teacher, who looked as if 
she never punished herself. 

I know I shall, and it’s provoking, because I 
wanted to go home early this afternoon; but I must 
keep my word ; and Helen Blun, just as soon as she 
eats her lunch is going to tell Lizzie Morrell’s aunt, 
or her uncle’s wife, as Lizzie says she is, why she is 
kept in.” 

“ Helen Blun !” said another teacher, “ isn’t she 
pretty ? You know I had her last term, and she was 
very bright ; is she bright in your class 

“Yes, generally;” answered Miss Olden, “ but I 
don’t know what is the matter with her to-day, she 
has acted all the morning as if she didn’t know the 
ocean was water and the dry earth was land.” 

“ Young ladies,” they all started and got as quiet 
as though they were indeed a class of noisy chil- 
dren surprised by an angry teacher. 

It was Miss Tibbetty and her severe looking face 
had actually a glow of pleasure ; Miss Robson said 
it always had when she had disagreeable news to tell. 

“ Young ladies,” she said again, “ Mr. Jonas told 
Miss Amer that it was likely the Examination would 
take place the week after next, and Miss Amer 
thought it was well to let you know so that you could 
get ready.” 

The Examination : that meant the yearly Examin- 
ation by the Superintendent, and the bugbear and 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 87 

dread of every teacher, though in those days its ter- 
rors were not made greater as they are now by Ex- 
aminers for special studies. Superintendents then, 
not being so learned in their several departments did 
not ride hobbies as they do now to the sad experi- 
ence of many a poor teacher. 

The Examination not being expected for six weeks 
to come, the news of it struck dismay into the heart 
of every one. Miss Tibbetty having waited long 
enough to see the dismay, went away with a smile. 
Then the teachers got back their voices and each one 
had something to say of regret, lamentation, protest, 
or complaint. 

“ What shall I ever do ? my class doesn’t know a 
thing.” 

‘‘I never had such a stupid class ; it will fail, I 
know it will.” 

“ Dear me ! I don’t know where I am in my grade, 
and I haven’t had any review for a month!” 

“Oh, the geography in my class,” this last speech 
from Miss Olden, “To-day, no one but Nanny Tav- 
ish could tell what water we would come to if we 
walked east to the foot of Rivington Street. Half the 
•lass, and among that half bright Helen Blun, said 
the Caspian Sea.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Miss Rob- 
son, the only one of the six teachers who seemed not 
to mind the dreadful news, “ Manage as I mean to 
do about my geography for examination.” 

“How?” asked Miss Olden eagerly. 

“I’ll come into your room after school and tell 
you,” Miss Robson whispered, “I don’t care to tell 
it before this whole room full.” 

Miss Olden felt easier and when the noon hour 
was ended she went back to her class quite hopeful. 

Helen Blun had been so eager to go on her errand 
that she had not waited to finish her lunch, and with 
a parting look of triumph at Lizzie Morrell she hur- 
ried from the room putting on her hat as she went. 


88 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


hardly hearing Lizzie’s scornfully uttered words : 

“Why don’t you take the shaker bonnet along 

As she turned into the street where Lizzie lived 
she looked about her for. some one to direct her to 
Lizzie’s house ; she saw a large, awkard looking 
boy standing in the doorway of the undertaker’s 
shop and she went to him. 

“Lizzie Morrell,” he repeated in a sad sort of way, 
as if the very sound of her name made him un- 
happy, “ there aint many in this ere street as don’t 
know where she lives. She’ s made her mark in these 
parts, she has ; at least in the undertaking line ; 
she lives in that house down there, up^ two pair o’ 
stairs,” and Tijirnig came out on the sidewalk and 
pointed to the house ; he even walked a few steps 
with Helen to make quite sure she would find it. 
As he walked back to his old place in the door- 
way he said to himself : 

“She’s a nice looking little girl ; seemes like as if 
she belonged to one of them ere big bugs. I wonder 
what she wants with a wild ’un like Lizzie Morrell ; 
but then Lizzie Morrell has eyes ; eyes as a feller 
can’t forget.” 

As Helen Blun went forward, she thought : 

“What a funny looking boy, and what funny 
things he said about Lizzie Morrell,” 

When she went into the tenement house, she met 
in the hall way several dirty children and a couple 
of untidy looking women, and when going up the 
stairs, the odor of many dinners caused her little 
nose to turn up with scorn and disgust. It was the 
first time she had ever been in such a j)lace, and she 
felt more than ever how much better she was than 
,the girl she had come to complain about. 

Her knock at the door brought Mrs. Morrell and 
Helen delivered her message making even more of: 
Lizzie’s misconduct than Miss Olden had done. 

“What an awful bad girl,” said Mrs. Morrell when 
she heard it all, “ to give the teacher such trouble 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 89 


as that — just come in here and tell it to her uncle.” 

Thus Helen saw the odd looking figure in the great 
red bag, and it was only by remembering her man- 
ners that she kept from laughing, but she thought 
what fun she should have in telling the girls in the 
class how Lizzie’s uncle looked. 

Mrs. Morrell was full of virtuous anger. 

•‘Isn’t it a shame to have such a complaint ?” she 
said to her husband, “to think of the teacher having 
to send home about her,” then she turned to Helen, 
“We’re much obliged to you for coming to tell 
us.” 


But her thanks did not keep Helen from thinking 
that Mrs. Morrell was more of a feather bed than 
ever.” 

Mr. Morrell said quietly Avhen he heard the whole 
story : 

“ Lizzie did very wrong to give the teacher so much 
trouble, but I wish the teacher would punish her 
some other way than keeping her in two hours after 
school is out.” 

Mrs. Morrell said to Helen when she parted with 
her at the door : 

“You tell the teacher to keep Lizzie in till six 
o’clock if she likes ; it’s little enough imnishment 
for what she’s done.” 

And that was the message Helen gave to Miss 
Olden, keeping back every thing Mr. Morrel had 
said. 

During the afternoon Helen found an opportun- 
ity to whisper to the girls who sat near her how Mr. 
Morrell looked. It was a very funny account, but 
they did not dare to laugh before the teacher, though 
some of them were compelled to put their hands to 
their faces many times. Gi’eat care was taken to 
keep Lizzie from knowing what all the secret amuse- 
ment was about, till Miss Olden was called from the 
room ; she was summoned by Miss Amer to account 
for her want of discipline during assembly in the morn- 


90 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

ing, the same having been conscientiously reported 
by Miss Tibbetty. Her absence from the room gave 
a chance to Helen to let some of the other girls into 
the secret of the amusement. 

“ He was the funniest looking thing you ever saw,” 
she said loud enough for Lizzie Morrell to hear, 
‘‘ with a red flannel bag tied around him, and a red 
night cap on.” 

Lizzie knew then it was Dad Helen Blun was talk- 
ing about, and that it was Helen’s description of him 
that had caused all the sly looks and the giggling. 
Her beloved Dad ; the only creature she loved in the 
whole wide world. She jumped to her feet her eyes 
and her cheeks blazing, and her whole form trem- 
bling. 

‘‘You are a bad, mean girl, Helen Blun, to talk 
about my uncle like that — the red bag you talk 
about is red flannel because he has the rheumatism, 
and he’s just as good as your father and a heap sight 
better — he’s just the nicest, sweetest, dearest, best, 
lovingest man that ever was born.” 

In her passionate affection for him, and her wild 
desire to defend him, she said the first words that 
came to her mind ; then her feelings became too 
strong for her and she burst into tears. 

It was the first time any of her classmates had seen 
her actually crying ; she had always seemed a quick- 
tempered, fun loving little girl, and the strange sight 
touched many of them, but no one so much as 
Yanny Tavish. The scene went to Nanny’s heart 
because Lizzie’s love for her uncle was so like Nan- 
ny’s love for her mother, and she could not bear it. 
She left her seat, and going to Lizzie threw her arms 
around her neck. 

“Don’t feel so bad, Lizzie,” she said, 

“ You are a good girl to love your uncle so dearly, 
and Helen Blun and the other girls ought to be 
ashamed of themselves for making fun of him.” 

Helen Blun looked as if she were made a little bit 


CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 91 

ashamed by the sympathy most of tlie class seemed 
to feel for Lizzie, and she was glad to see Miss Olden 
come in just then. 

Miss Olden was much annoyed ; she had come 
from a lecture concerning her utter want of disci- 
pline. 

Miss Amer had said to her : 

“ You must keep better order, Miss Olden ; you 
must learn to command by your eye, Miss Tibbetty 
reports, and indeed, 1 could not help seeing it my- 
self that during Mr. Jonas’ lecture you actually had 
to spoil the order of the school by going between the 
desks to speak to one of the girls in your class ; it 
should have been enough for you to look at her.” 

Miss Olden comi ng back to her class room and see- 
ing the general disorder, finding even model Nanny 
Tavish, who never had to be spoken to, away from 
her seat, was so incensed she did not wait to find out 
what had caused this breach of discipline or who was 
chiefly to blame. 

‘‘ Every one of you,” she said in a shrill tone, 
“ take a debit.” 

In those days the “ debit” was like the failure of 
the present day. 

“Not a word,” she went on, as a dozen hands were 
raised to protest against this whole-sale injustice, for 
some of the girls had been mere silent lookers on, 
and they were naturally very indignant. 

“ x\s for you, Nanny Tavish, you deserve a double 
debit for daring to leave your seat.” 

Nanny had gone back to her place and she be- 
came very red at being spoken to so harshly but she 
gave no other sign of her feelings. Lizzie, however, 
with her passionate, affectionate, sensirive nature 
stirred to its greatest depths by the kind act of 
Nanny, could not bear that Nanny should be pun- 
ished so unjustly, and with utter disregard of Miss 
Olden’s command not to speak, she said loud enough 
for the whole class to hear : 


92 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WBA T CAME OF IT. 


“Nanny Tavisli doesn’t deserve to have a debit at 

all ; it is Helen Blnn that ” but she could get no 

further, for Miss Olden very angry at this defiance 
of her order, caugh t Lizzie by the shoulder, and shook 
her, saying : 

“ Lizzie Morrell, if you say another word, I’ll take 
you out to Miss Amer and get her to send for 
your aunt. Your aunt sent word to me to keep you 
in till six o’clock, and I think from that she is a very 
sensible person ; she will see that you are punished 
as you ought to be.” 

Lizzie knew only too well how gladly and promptly 
Mrs. Morrell would answer such a message, so she 
did not say anything more, but her imlses throbbed, 
and her heart ached with a sense of injustice, and in 
her generous nature, not the wrong done to herself, 
but the hurt inflicted uj)on kind little Nanny. If it 
had not been for her uncle and Nanny’s kindness, 
her feelings toward the whole human race would 
have been bitter almost beyond power of softening. 

Helen Blun was perhaps the most contented girl 
in the class under the loss of her marks. She knew 
there was no injustice done to lier^ and it did not 
trouble her that there had been any done to Nanny, 
for had Nanny not given herself such airs about the 
shaker, there would not perhaps have been any of 
this trouble, and as for Lizzie Morrell, the only feel- 
ing Helen Blun had for her was a sort of fierce sat- 
isfaction at her punishment. 

The afternoon passed without any other incident 
to mark it, and Miss Olden worked up almost to hys- 
terics from anger, anxiety, and discouragement, was 
very glad when three o’clock came. But there were 
Helen Blun and Lizzie Morrell to detain, the former 
till four, and the latter till five o’clock. She was 
sorry now she had said she would keep them so long, 
for it did indeed, as Miss Robson had said, punish 
herself most of all and this afternoon when she was 
so tired and discouraged it hurt her sorely. But she 


A CHIVALRO tfS DEED, AND WE A T GAME OE IT. 93 

knevi’’ that to maintain her authority in the class, 
her word must be kept, and she resigned herself with 
a weary ait to the long detention. Expecting Miss 
Robson, she told the two girls to seat themselves in 
the back part of the room, and to take everything 
they had in their desks with them ; she intended to 
give them work to do which should keep both their 
eyes and their ears from paying attention to her and 
her visitor. 

The pupils rose to obey, and Lizzie watching Helen 
as a cat might watch a mouse saw that the shaker 
was not going to be taken from its place in Helen’s 
desk. Her hand was up at once : 

‘‘Miss Olden, Helen Blun isn’t taking all her 
things out of her desk.” 

“Helen Blun, didn’t Isay you were to take every- 
thing with you ?” said Miss Olden sharply, and 
Helen with an angry look at Lizzie pulled out the 
shaker and put it on top of her books. Lizzie 
Morrell smiled an exasperating smile ; it was her 
turn to have a little amusement now ; Helen had 
had it all the afternoon. 

When the change in their seats had been made 
with a good distance between the two. Miss Olden 
said : 

“Helen Blun, you write your name a hundred times, 
and you,, Lizzie Morrell, write yours two hundred 
times, and if they are not written just as nicely 
as you know how to write, you shall stay in to-mor- 
row afternoon again.” 

By this time Miss Robson had come in, and as 
there was only one chair in the room she seated her- 
self on the table, making Miss Olden take the chair, 
and draw it as close as possible to the table ; then 
Miss Robson began in a whisper : 

“My plan is this ; you see in all the schools they’ve 
been so far, this year they are letting the teachers 
do a good deal of the examining ; now I am just go- 
ing to give each girl her place, and make out my 


94 ^ oiiivalrous deed, and wuat came of it. 

lisl of questions in geograpy and study tliein, and 
then each girl will know what question she is going 
to get, and of course, from our having gone over the 
questions three or four times beforehand, she will 
know what answer she is to give.” 

“ Are you going to do that ?” said Miss Olden in 
great surprise, “ will that be honest 

“ Honest fiddlesticks !” answered her companion, 
“ when we’ve done our duty all the year round teach- 
ing as hard as we can, and then have a man who has 
a mighty easy time of it compared with us poor 
teachers, come in to find out what we haven’t taught, 
is excuse enough to pull the wool over his eyes a lit- 
tle bit.” 

But conscientious Miss Olden shook her head. 

‘‘ I don’t feel satisfied to do that.” 

“ Well, don’t do it then,” said her companion, “I 
didn’t ask you to do it ; I only told you, because you 
seemed to be in such distress this morning, what my 
plan was, and I am going to adojot it. I have no 
scruples about it whatever, for I think school teach- 
ing, at least the part that relates to those yearh^ ex- 
aminations, is like war ; all is fair in dealing with 
the Superintendents.” 

She jumped from the table laughing, and with a 
merry adieu went out of the room. Miss Olden looked 
after her with envious eyes — the duties and the cares 
of teaching seemed to trouble her so little. 

It was four o’clock ; Helen had written her name 
carefully one hundred times and she was told to go 
home. She went to the closet where the clothing of 
the class was kept taking with her, her books and 
the shaker ; she knew if she left the shaker where 
she had been sitting, Lizzie Morrell would wickedly 
tell Miss Olden. Butshethought while slowly putting 
on her bonnet that it would be a good thing to hang 
the shaker on one of the hooks farthest out of sight 
in the closet, and then the janitor would find it and 
keep it till somebody sliould claimit ;if noowner were 


A OBIl^ALIiOUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 95 

found he would dispose of it, and she at least would 
be rid of the hateful thing. So, watching her chance 
when Lizzie’s eyes were turned on her slate, she hung 
the bonnet on one of the most reihote hooks in the 
closet, and darted out of the room. When Lizzie 
looked up from her slate she stretched her neck to 
be quite sure that Helen had not left the shaker any- 
where about her seat. 

The extra hoar of her own punishment was at 
length ended, and she went to the closet to get her 
bonnet ; her keen eyes saw the shaker. 

‘‘I’ll take it home and bring it to her to-morrow 
morning,” she gleefully thought, and as Miss Olden 
in a hurry to go home herself, had her bonnet on, 
her closet and table drawer locked, and her roll book 
on her arm when she told Lizzie she might go, she 
herself had gone before Lizzie had risen from her 
seat. She had left without a parting word to the 
child, but that was because her thoughts were busy 
with what Miss Robson had said to her ; if she 
could only throw aside her scruples. Alas ! the very 
wish to do so was a sign that the temptation would 
not be resisted. 

Lizzie was so much delighted in the thought of 
bringing the shaker to Helen in the morning she did 
not care that Miss Olden had gone without speak- 
ing to her ; indeed, she had spent much of her time 
in making faces at her teacher, and she had written 
on her slate, though of course she rubbed it directly 
off. 

“Miss Olden is a horrid, ugly teacher.” She would 
have added : 

“ And I hate her,” only she had promised Dad 
in that talk on Saturday afternoon, that she would 
try never to hate any body. 

So there was no one to see her when she took the 
shaker and tying its strings together hung it boldly 
on her arm ; then, with her bag of books on her 
other arm she went home. She had to pass the 


96 ^ GRIVALRO VS DEED, AND WBA T CAME OF IT. 

undertaker’s shop on the way to her own house and 
Thimig, standing in the doorway — in fine weather he 
spent most of his time in the doorway — went into 
the shop when he saw her. He felt too sore yet to 
speak to her, though, as he said to himself ; 

That girl’s eyes was a goin’ straight into my 
heart.” 

Mrs. Morrell was in the hall talking to one of her 
neighbors when Lizzie went in. 

What’s that you have?” she said, seeing the 
shaker on Lizzie’s arm, and forgetting in her curi- 
osity to scold the child for her bad conduct in 
school. 

One of the girls in our class left it in the closet, 
and I thought I’d bring it home and keep it for her, ” 
answered Lizzie, knowing that if she did not give a 
satisfactory reply her aunt would be sure to say 
something that she would not want to hear. 

‘‘ Do you know which of the girls left it ?” asked 
Mrs. Morrell, eager to show the other woman how 
well Lizzie was brought up. 

‘Wes, Helen Blun,” said Lizzie beginning to as- 
cend the stair, but Mrs. Morrell placed herself be- 
fore her, saying : 

“I suppose it was for fear it would be stolen 
you brought it home ; that was very good of you, 
Lizzie. You see, Mrs Cartan, the result of teachin’ 
a child to be strictly honest ; me and her uncle are 
all the time harpin’ on tliat, and thank God, we’re 
gettin’ our reward.” Lizzie, in secret indignation 
at this speech was trying unavailingly to squeeze 
herself under her aunt’s arm. 

“And now, my plan ’ll be, Mrs. Cartan, to send Liz- 
zie to the little girl’s house with the hat ; it’ll be a 
lesson in honesty for both of them. Do you know 
where the little girl lives, Lizzie ?” 

Did she know? Helen Blun’s residence was well 
known to every child in the class, and at the idea of 
taking the shaker to Helen’s house Lizzie’s eyes 


A GBIVALHO US A BD WE A T CAME OB IT. 97 


sparkled, but she said quietly lest her aunt should 
see how glad she was. 

‘‘Yes, I know where she lives.” 

“Well, give me your bag, and you go right away 
with the hat. That’s my motto, Mrs. Cartan ; don’t 
let the grass grow under your feet when it’s a ques- 
tion of honesty. So run, ahead, Lizzie.” 

Lizzie needed no second order ; she was out of the 
house like a hare and down the street like “ a streak 
o’lightning,” as Thirnig said to himself ; he had 
gone again to the doorway, and he saw her dart out 
of the house, and down the block to the corner. 

As Lizzie had taken her time in walking home 
from school, and some minutes had passed while 
Mrs. Morrell was talking in the hall, and as it was 
some distance to Helen’s house, it was six o’clock 
when Lizzie reached there and the whole Blun fam- 
ily were assembled at the dinner table. Lizzie 
could see the shadows of some of them on the window 
shades, and her heart beat quickly as she wondered 
which door she should enter ; the grand looking up- 
per door, or the plain basement door ; as the family 
seemed to be in the lower part of the house she de- 
cided to apply at the basement door, and she did so, 
closing the area gate after her because she had found 
it closed, — Mr. Blun having gone in before her, — and 
ringing rather timidly the l3asement bell. 

Jane on her way from the dining room to the kit- 
chen, opened the door, and as the dining room door 
was wide open, and as the Blun family ate in si- 
lence, Lizzie’s voice was heard distinctly as she 
said : 

“ I called with this bonnet that Helen Blun left in 
school to-day.” 

“What’s that?'^ said Mr. Blun startled from his 
decorum at hearing words that told of such careless- 
ness on the part of his daughter. 

“ You had better wait a moment, little girl,” said 
Jane, hearing Mr. Blun’s sharply spoken question. 


98 ^ GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


and hurrying back to the dining room, without how- 
ever taking the shaker, to tell the message. 

“ Bring her in here,” Mr. Blun ordered, and Lizzie 
liolding up the shaker, stepped into the handsome 
dining room. 

Helen had too surely known Lizzie’s voice, and 
she had turned pale, but when she saw her, and the 
irrepressible shaker, she thought she was going to 
faint. She could not look anywhere but at her 
plate and that seemed to have multiplied itself into 
a great number of plates. 

“Is this your bonnet, Helen?” asked Mr. Blun. 
taking the shaker from Lizzie, and holding it up to 
the astonished gaze of the whole family, “and did 
you walk home from school in your barehead ?” he 
went on, his voice growing more and more stern as 
he saw the signs of guilt in his daughter’s down cast 
and crimson face. She could not lift her head to 
answer him, but Mrs. Blun, knowing that Helen had 
never worn a shaker, said : 

“That certainly is not Helen’s bonnet; she has 
never worn such a thing in her life. ’ 

“ Why, Helen said it was her bonnet,” cried Wal- 
ter, recognizing the shaker that his sister had made 
him give up when he had taken it for a flag ; and 
feeling in the light of the present information as if 
it had been taken from him under false pretenses, 
he went on wickedly : 

“ She had it under her bed to keep it clean, she 
said.”— 

“ What does this mean ?” asked Mr. Blun, be- 
wildered by the extraordinary revelations. He asked 
Helen again : 

“ Is this your bonnet, and did you come home from 
school to-day without any covering to your head?” 

But the wretched child was still not able to an- 
swer : not able even to look at her father, and Lizzie 
burst out impulsively : 

“It isn’t the bonnet Helen wears herself to school ; 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 99 

slie said her father bought it for her to give Nanny 
Tavish because Friday afternoon she tore Nanny 
Tavish’s shaker; and she did give it to Nanny 
Tavish to-day, but Nanny wouldn’t take it, and 
wlien I saw it hanging in the closet J thought Pd 
bring it home to Helen.” 

Here was the story of a lie which Helen must have 
told, for Mr. Blun knew he had neither bought, nor 
given an order to buy a shaker bonnet for any of 
Helen’s classmates. He rose from his chair and 
said : 

Helen Blun !” 

His voice sounded dreadful to her ; it compelled 
her eyes to meet his. 

“Is the statement made by this child true ?” 

Nobody seemed to breathe, not even the little two 
year old boy, in the silence that followed and Helen, 
feeling how useless it would be to tell any more lies, 
gasped : 

'‘Yes.” then she fell forward on the table and burst 
out crying. 

“ That is enough,” said Mr. Blun, “ you may go, 
little girl,” turning to Lizzie, and Lizzie casting a 
look of pity at Helen went out. With her naturally 
kind heart the sight of Helen’s grief liad driven away 
her angry feelings, and put compassion in their 
place. 

She was sorry now that she had brought the 
shaker to Helen’s house. 

“Gro up to my room, Helen,” ordered her father, 
“and take this bonnet with you.” 

Helen obeyed, and her sobs could be heard till the 
door of her father's room closed upon her. 

Even Walter, feeling she was going to get some 
dreadful punishment, was sorry for what he had told 
about the bonnet, and the other children were too 
frightened to eat any more dinner. Mrs. Blun was 
very much vexed ; this trouble would cause her hus- 
band to give one of his tiresome lectures on “ disci- 


100 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

pline,” and dear knows what disagreeable new rules 
he would make for the house; she thought he had 
made enough on Saturday to last a lifetime. 

But what Mr. Blun’s thoughts, or plans were, no 
one could tell ; his face kept its stern look, and he 
ate his dinner in silence. When everybody had fin- 
ished he gaye the usual signal for rising and leaving 
the room, and when they all had filed out before him, 
he, looking very stern and determined, went up alone 
to Helen. 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 101 


CHAPTER IX. 

Whetst Nanny Tavish went home that Monday 
afternoon, she did not wait even to get her bonnet off 
before she told her mother everything that had hap- 
pened during the day. 

Happy child that she was to have a mother who 
listened to her so fondly, and who said gently when 
all was told : 

“lam sorry, Nanny, you refused Helen Blun’s 
shaker in the way you did ; I wish you had thanked 
her and told her kindly you couldn’t take it.” 

“Oh, but mamma, if you had seen the way she 
gave it to me and the airs she puts on because she 
lives in a nice street and in a fi ie house ; all the girls 
say she’s the richest girl in our class, and it made 
me feel so mean to have her give me that hat as if 
she knew you were too poor to buy me one.” 

“ Yes, my darling, that may be all true, but at 
the same time we must try to be kind to everybody, 
and if only you had said : 

“I thank 3^011, Helen, for your kindness in bring- 
ing me a bonnet for the one you tore, but I can’ t take 
it ;’ it would have pleased me very much.” 

“Oh, but mamma! I couldn’t, it just seemed to 
me when she took the shaker out of the paper before 
all the girls, and said her father had bought it for 
me, as if I could not breathe, and when she put it 
in my desk, as if to make the girls think I had 
taken it, I just thought I’d like to — ” she stopped 
suddenly getting very red. 


102 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


“Like to what asked Mrs. Tavisli smiling fondly 
so that the child would not be afraid to tell her every- 
thing, you surely would not have struck her.” 

“ No, mamma ; I don’ t think I would ever do any- 
thing like that ; but, oh, if you only knew how 
Helen Blun hurt me, and Lizzie Morrell was the only 
girl in the whole class that seemed to stand by me. 
And then Helen Blun made all the trouble. If it 
hadn’t been for her none of us would have lost our 
marks.” Her mother said : 

‘‘I know it was all very hard, dear, but at the 
same time we should not forget our duty, and don’t 
you think Nanny darling, it is a good deal more to 
our credit to do what we feel to be right when ever^^- 
thing seems to be making us want to do the other 
way? If I were you, dear, to-morrow, I’d go 
to Helen Blun, and say : 

“I’m sorry, Helen, for the rude way I spoke to 
you when you brought me the bonnet yesterday ; I 
thank you for your kindness in bringing it, but of 
course I couldn’t take it.” 

Oh, mamma ! I couldn’t do that,’’ and Nanny’s 
face got redder still. 

“ Well, dear ; Idon’t a^^you to doit ; I only say 
that if I were you I think I would try to do it, and 
Nanny, darling, if you do, you will please me very 
much.” 

She said no more, but stooped and kissed the lit- 
tle girl, and then went on with her work of prepar- 
ing for the wash tub the clothes she had taken from 
different homes during the morning. Nor did 
Nanny say any more, but she could not get out of her 
mind her mother's last words ; she knew it would 
be a great victory over herself to do as her mother de- 
sired, but it was so hard. What satisfaction it would 
give to Helen Blun ; and maybe Lizzie Morrell, when 
she heard of it, would think that she, Nanny, had 
no spirit. She felt that, no matter how privately 
she might make the apology, Helen Blun would lose 


A CHI VALRO U8 DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 103 

no time in telling it to the whole class. All these 
thoughts made her so tired she was glad when her 
mother said : 

‘'I shall want some soap, dear; would you mind 
going for it now ? and if you like, you can take a 
walk at the same time.” 

Nanny sprang up and was ready in a moment to 
go on the errand. 

Recent incidents were apt with Nanny to make 
her forget the impressions caused by earlier ones, 
so that the incidents of that day had driven from 
her mind the thoughts caused by her visit to Staten 
Island. Indeed, in the part that Helen Blun was 
playing just now, in Nanny’s daily life, the myster- 
ious Egbert was almost entirely forgotten, and as the 
studying of her lessons and the dreamy delights of 
composing little stories and rliymes did not get on 
well together, the stories and rhymes were always 
put off till Saturday ; then her lessons having been 
studied on Friday afternoon, she was free to give the 
whole of the next day to her fancies. 

As she walked along towards the Bowery, her 
thoughts were busy with Helen Blun and all tliat 
had happened during the day, and with nothing else. 
As she turned into the Bowery a poorly dressed 
blind man was fumbling with his stick at the curb 
trying to guide himself across the street. Though 
many people passed him everbody seemed in too 
much of a hurry to give him more than a glance, and 
the noise of the wagons made him look as if he did 
not know which way to go. 

Nanny’s tender little heart was touched at once, 
and she went up to him, and caught his hand, say- 
ing : 

“I’ll take you across the street if you want to go.” 

A smile of thanks broke over his face, and his long, 
thin fingers wound themselves tightly around her lit- 
tle hand. Nanny led him carefully, going slowly, and 
looking on every side so as to keep away from the 


104 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

wagons, but with all her care a carriage driven 
rapidly came down upon them. Before she could 
pull her blind charge out of the way one of the 
horses had struck him causing him to fall and he 
pulled Nanny with him ; in her fright she had, tight- 
ened her hold of him. 

The fall threw them both in front of the carriage, 
and only that the driver i)ulled up the horses till 
they went back on their haunches there would have 
been a serious accident. Nanny, finding herself al- 
most under the horse’s feet screamed with fright, 
and neither she nor the blind man seemed able to get 
up ; but a number of persons rushed to their aid. 

A lady and gentleman were in the carriage that 
caused the accident, and they looked out of the car- 
riage window to see what was the matter. The 
lady leaned so far out she had a full view of Nanny 
Tavish in the arms of a workman who bad picked 
her up. 

“Oh, Edwin; “she said, drawing back, “it is 
the washerwoman’s little girl ; that dear little crea- 
ture I’ve just been telling you about. I must get out 
and see how much she is hurt.” 

“ I’ll do it,” said the gentleman, “ you stay here, 
Cornelia,” and opening the carriage door he sprang 
out. 

As the accident had happened in the middle of the 
street all traffic had been stopped, but now that it 
was found the blind man and the little girl were not 
hurt, wagons moved on again, and the driver of the 
carriage so as not to block up the way, drove to the 
curb of the sidewalk ; there Nanny was taken and 
the blind man led, and there the gentleman followed. 

“ I am not hurt,” said Nanny when she recovered 
from her fright sufficiently to speak, though she was 
still trembling ; then as the workman put her on her 
feet she looked about for her blind companion : she 
felt ashamed that in her own fright she had forgot- 
ten him. 


A CmVALRO US DEED, A ND WHA T GAME OF IT. 105 


“ Where is he ? the blind man V' she asked pite- 
ously, “Is he hurt?” 

“No, little one ; he’s safe ; is he your father?” 
asked a kindly voice. 

“No;” said another voice, “he says himself 
that the little girl is a stranger to him; she was lead- 
ing him across the street.” 

A murmur of admiration went up at this state- 
ment of Nanny’s kind action, and the gentleman 
from the carriage having just then reached her, he 
heard it ; he also hp,d heard the answer to the ques- 
tion. 

“ I think I know something of this child,” he said 
as a sort of explanation to the crowd who had made 
way for him. 

“ Is not your name, Nanny Tavish?” speaking to 
the girl. 

“Yes sir;” she answered in wide-eyed wonder.* 
Her wonder was taking the place of fright. 

“My sister, Miss Ingoldsby, would like to see 
you,” he went on, “ she is in the carriage that I am 
sorry to say caused the accident.” 

Miss Ingoldsby ! that name brought back all the 
strange, delightful things that had happened on 
Saturday, and a flood of color rushed into Nanny’s 
face ; the instant before it had been very pale in- 
deed. ^ 

She let the gentleman take her hand and she went 
with him to the carriage, the little crowd making re- 
spectful way for them. When she saw the sweet- 
faced lady, and when she asked so kindly if she had 
been hurt, Nanny forgot everything but the delight 
of that moment. 

Miss Inglodsby said to her brother that they should 
take Nanny home. 

Nanny never had been in such a carriage before, 
and delight kept her blushing, while modesty kepi 
her from lifting her eyes. 

“Tell the driver to go to No, Rivington Street, 


106 A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT 

Edwin,” said his sister, and then she turned to the 
little girl, who sat beside her. 

‘‘ That is where you live, is it not ?” 

Nanny answered without looking up : 

“ Yes ma’am.” 

- As the carriage drove off. Miss Ingoldsby glanced 
at her brother ; he nodded, and then he" began to 
look very closely at Nanny ; as she still kept her 
eyes down he could do so without being noticed by 
her. Not but that she wanted to look at him, this 
Edwin Miss Ingoldsby had spoken of on Saturday ; 
but she had not the courage to lift her eyes. 
What she saw of him wlien he spoke to her first, was 
so little. It barely showed her a young man with a 
light complexion and hair the color of his sister’s. Of 
one thing she was quite sure, he was not at all like 
the mysterious Egbert, and she was not going to give 
him a place in her little romance ; but he was a gen- 
tleman ; his manner, his voice, everything about him 
showed that, and alas! for Nanny’s pride, in spite 
of what she had said about Helen Blun’s pride, 
Nanny was proud now because these rich people took 
so much notice of her ; she was even proudly think- 
ing what the neighbors would say when they saw her 
get out of such an elegant carriage and if only Helen 
could be there to see her. 

Miss Ingoldsby, in orddr to let her brother continue 
to watch the child, did not speak for a few seconds ; 
then she said to Nanny : 

“Tell us how the accident occured and how you 
came to be leading the blind man across the street.” 

Nanny felt she ought to look up then, and to give 
as clear an account as she could from the time she 
saw the blind man groping with his stick to the mo- 
ment that the horse struck him. Her manner of tell- 
ing it charmed Miss Ingoldsby but she could not tell 
from the expression of her brother’s face, what he 
thought of it, or what he thought of the little girl. 

Nanny’s home not being very distant the carriage 


A CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 107 

got tliere almost as soon as she had stopped speaking, 
and she was pleased to see a number of her big and lit- 
tle neighbors on the side walk, and the novel sight 
of such a fine carriage in that neighborhood, drew 
many more to the scene. 

Shall we go in with her to make her mother feel 
sure she is not hurt?” said Miss Ingoldsby, the tone 
of her voice showing that she wished to go. 

Her brother replied with a smile : 

“ If you choose.” 

So, to the further open mouthed surprise and ad- 
miration of the little crowd, the elegant lady and 
gentleman went with Nanny into the shabby looking 
house. Then perhaps as much shame as pride was 
in the child’s heart ; shame when she saw how Miss 
Ingoldsby had to lift her dainty skirts from contact 
with the soiled steps, and to keep them lifted in the 
bare, dust}^ hall. 

Mrs. Tavish had finished assorting the clothes for 
the next day’s washing and she had put them tidily 
into a corner so that they would not be seen much by 
Nanny when she come back, for she knew how much 
better Nanny felt when every sign of the hateful 
washing was out of sight. She also had set the table 
for supper, and everything in the room had such 
a neat, tidy look one almost forgot how poor it 
was. 

Miss Ingoldsby with a delicate shrinking from go- 
ing in too suddenly on Mrs. Tavish, paused just out- 
side the threshold while Nanny- hurrying into the 
room, said almost breathlessly : 

“Mamma, here are Miss Ingoldsby and her brother ; 
they brought me home in their carriage because they 
thought their carriage had hurt me; but I wasn’t 
hurt mamma ; loiily fell when their carriage knocked 

down a blind man he didn’t know how to 

get across the street and I was taking him.” 

There were so many feelings struggling in her lit- 
tle heart she hardly knew what to say first, and she 


108 -4 GEIVALROUS DEED, AND WIIAT CAME OF IT, 

wanted to have her mother know at once how she had 
happened to come back in such company and that 
she was not hurt. 

Mrs. Tavish’s feelings were quite indescribable ; the 
child’s looks assured her she was not hurt but the 
visitors in the doorway frightened her. After a 
moment, however, she recovered herself sufficiently 
to go to them and say : 

“I don’t know how to thank you, Miss Ingoldsby, 
and you Mr. Ingoldsby, for your kindness to Nan- 
ny. Will you come in ?” 

Miss Ingoldsby stepped within, her brother fol- 
lowing, and they took the chairs Mrs. Tavisli placed 
for them. The young lady began pleasantly : 

“ We are very glad your little girl was not hurt ; 
if she had been, it would have been truly in the in- 
terest of compassion for she was doing a most kind 
act, leading a poor blind man ; but that would not 
have softened the blow for you, Mrs. Tavish.” 

Mrs. Tavish made no reply, but Miss Ingoldsby 
hardly expected any for she went on almost without 
pausing, 

“From Nanny’s account, I judged, Mrs. Tavish, 
that you have trained your little daughter well and 
that she is good and obedient.” 

Mrs. Tavish’s eyes seemed to fill, but of that the 
young lady could not be sure, for she had turned 
her head so that her face could not be well seen. 
But her voice trembled as she answered : 

“ It is not difficult to teach the young to be good, 
and I try to do as well as I can.” 

Miss Ingoldsby gave her brother a quick, ques- 
tioning look, but he did not seem to notice it. 

Nanny all this time was standing shyly by the 
table almost wondering if it were not a dream to 
have those elegant people actually sitting there in 
her poor home. Even yet she could not bring her- 
self to lift her eyes to either of them, till Miss In- 
goldsby gaid ; 


A CEI VALROUSD BED, A ND WHA T GAME OF IT. 1 09 

“Are you quite sure, Nanny, that you have re- 
covered from your fright 

Then Nanny raised her eyes for an instant and 
looked full into the young lady’s face, answering: 

“ Oh yes : I am not a bit frightened now.” 

Mr. Ingoldsby rose, saying to his sister : 

“ I am afraid, Cornelia, that if we do not go at 
once, we shall miss the boat.” 

Cornelia rose but with a manner that showed she 
was unwilling to leave so soon, and they both bade 
Nanny good bye, tlie young lady taking Nanny’s 
liand as she did so, but the gentleman only bowed ; 
he did the same to Mrs. Tavish while his sister 
said : 

“Be sure to bring Nanny with you to Staten Isl- 
and on Saturday, when you bring the clothes, Mrs. 
Tavish.” 

Both mother and daughter followed the visitors to 
the street door, and waited while they entered the 
carriage, which was by this time the object of admir- 
ing attention to nearly everybody in the neighbor- 
hood. 

Nanny was so excited and delighted she could 
hardly get back to her wonted state of feeling ; she 
could not talk enough about Miss Ingoldsby and 
her brother —their kindness, their elegance, how 
much Mr. Ingoldsby looked like his sister, her own 
visit to Staten Island on the coming Saturday, her re- 
newed wonder about Egbert, but when she came to 
that her mother could bear no more ; she exclaimed : 

“If you talk so much about these strangers, 
Nanny, I shall begin to feel that you will get to 
think more of them than you do of me.” 

“ Oh, mamma ! never, never !” and she sprang to 
her mother’s neck hugging her closely. 

“ Then don’t talk of them any more, dear.” 

Nanny forced herself to be silent, but it was very 
hard, and Mrs. Tavish understanding that, asked 
about the blind man so as to divert the child’s 


110 A CIIJFALROUS BE£:i), AJVD WEAT CAME OF IT. 

thoughts. That made the little girl reproach her- 
self for having forgo^^ten him. 

“ And he looked so poor, mamma,’’ she said, tears 
filling her eyes, “but he wasn’t begging, and they 
said he wasn’t hurt, but oh, I wish 1 had thought 
of seeing him before I got into the carriage.” 

“ 1 wish so too, dear, but don’t trouble yourself 
about it now, and what did you do with the money 
for the soap V ’ 

Nanny looked dismayed. 

I forgot all about it ; I had it in my hand when 
I fell, and I must have lost it.” 

Mrs. Tavisli looked a little bit dismayed also, for 
the price of the soap, small as it was, was a good deal 
where every cent was so hardly earned and had to be 
so carefully spent ; but she said only : 

“Well, don’t mind about that eitlier : it wasn’t 
so very much to be sure.” 

But Nanny did mind about it, knowing the 
distress her mother often felt for the want of money, 
and her self reproach helped to turn her thoughts 
away from the Ingoldsbj^s ; it helped her also to 
be willing to tell Helen Blun that she was sorry for 
having spoken in such a manner to her, and when 
she was going to bed and about to give her mother 
a good night kiss, she whispered : 

‘ ‘ I shall say to Helen Blun to-morrow, mamma 
what you want me to say.” 

Mrs. Tavish smiled and kissed her ; little did the 
child know what was passing in her mother’s heart ; 
little did she dream an hour later when she was fast 
asleep how her mother hung above her, crying softly 
to herself : but could Mrs. Tavish know what was 
at that very moment passing between Edwin In- 
goldsby and his sister, her tears would have stopped 
flowing. 

This gen tleman was saying : 

“ It will be better for all of us, Cornelia, if you 
cease to make, or even to think any more of that 


A CIIirALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. m 

child ; I agree with you that she looks like Egbert, 
but such things often happen, and you must not tell 
Egbert anytliing about it.” 

Oh, Edwin ! not to write to him at all about the 
little creature. I never knew you to object to any- 
thing I wanted to do before.” 

“Nor would I now, but that 1 see more clearly than 
you do what is best in this case. I heard you ask 
her mother to bring her here on Saturday. Should 
she do so, promise me that you will take no more 
than ordinary notice of the child.” 

“But that will be a cruel disappointment to the 
little girl.” 

“Not half so cruel as the course you would pursue 
would be to your family. Once for all, Cornelia,” 
speaking very firmly, “you must promise me that 
you will do just as I wish in this case, and that when- 
ever Egbert comes back, you will not say one word to 
him about this child. Do you promise?” 

“ Yes,” she said very unwillingly, “but it is too 
bad when I have become so interested in her.” 

Her brother smiled. 


112 A CEIVALRO OS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF 12, 


CHAPTER X. 

Helen Blun was in the most remote corner of the 
room, crying and shivering with fear, when her fa- 
ther came in. How horribly slow he seemed to be in 
shutting the door behind him and walking to the 
middle of tlie room where he called in a dreadful 
voice : 

“ Helen, come here.” 

She obeyed, covering her face with her hands and 
beginning to sob. He took out his watch. 

I shall give you five minutes to stop crying.” 

If there had only been the slightest tone in his 
voice to show that he pitied her even though he were 
going to punish her, it would have soothed her ter- 
ror, and have given her courage to tell the whole 
story ; but there was nothing but that awful stern- 
ness which seemed to freeze her soul. After several 
efforts to stop crying, she managed to do so before 
the five minutes had quite passed. 

‘‘ Now telkme every circumstance about that bon- 
net.” 

The bonnet was lying on the table where she had 
thrown it savagely in full view of them both. 

If only he would help her by a question, a pitying 
word, even a change of expression in his face, but 
he did not ; he seemed to her like some grim, awful 
being whose eyes when she dared to raise her own, 
were so firmly fixed they did not even wink. 

With gasp, and pause, and hesitation she told how 
she came to promise to have her father buy a shaker 


A GHl VALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. H 3 

bonnet, that she took part of the change when she 
bought the trimming, and the lie she told her 
mother. Of her hardships in trying to hide the shaker 
she said nothing, but her father, recollecting Walter’s 
remark at the table, and determined according to 
his strint sense of discipline to let nothing go unex- 
plained, asked without a change either in the ex- 
pression of his face, or the tone of his voice : 

“What did youi* brother mean by saying j^ou 
kept this bonnet under the bed 

“I hid it under my bed and he and the rest of 
them found it, and — ” 

She stopped, for her answer was leading her into 
an account of how she got the shaker back from 
Walter. 

“ Go on,” said her father, “ I want a full account 
of everything that happened from the time you took 
the money to buy that bonnet, till you took the 
bonnet to school this morning.” 

She knew her father too well to think that, wlien 
he was angry as he was now, he would be satisfied 
with the questions he put to her ; he would ask each 
one of her brothers and sisters, and should he find 
that she had left out anything that had taken place, 
her punishment would be double. 

So, after another loud sob. which she tried in vain 
to keep down, she went on beginning with Saturday 
morning when Jane found the parcel under the bed, 
her bribe of the picture book to the little ones to 
keep them from finding the parcel, seeing it herself 
afterward on the broom in the yard, her threat to 
Walter to get it from him, and after that, how she 
threw it on the top of the wardrobe and went to sleep 
waking to find it on Lulu’s head, and that part 
brought her to the terrible disclosure of having cut 
off one of her curls in order to save the bonnet a 
second time. 

To almost any other father that tale, showing as 
it did all she had suffered from the ill-gotten bonnet, 


114 A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

would have brought pity even wliile it made pun- 
ishment necessary, but to Mr. Bluri it brought only 
anger. He had thought his “ discipline,” was enough 
to insure the morals ol* his family, and now to dis- 
cover that, not alone was eveiy rule of his “ disci- 
pline” broken, but that falsehood, theft and disobedi- 
ence were practiced in his household, was a dread- 
ful blow. It never entered his mind that he ought 
to lead his child to sorrow for having done wrong, 
to make her feel, that while it was her duty to ac- 
cept punishment, and his duty to give it, that he 
gave it in love and kindness and pity. His sole 
thought was that Helen must be punished so as to 
make it impossible for her ever again to be guilty of 
such conduct, and to satisfy his own aggrieved feel- 
ings. 

“ You have left out nothing,” he asked, when she 
had finished, and she stood trembling before him. 

“No, papa ; I’ve told you everything.” 

His left hand went up ; she knew what was com- 
ing ; lie was going to count upon his fingers the dif- 
ferent wicked things she had done, and beginning 
with the little finger he would reckon them till he 
came to the thumb ; and so he did. 

He told off on his little finger with great emphasis 
both as to touch and tone, her first wrong step in 
making an unauthorized promise' for him ; on the 
third finger her theft of the money, on the middle 
finger her purchase without any permission from 
her parents, on the fore finger her lie to her mother, 
on the thumb her slovenliness in putting anything 
under the bed, and then he had to begin at the little 
finger again, and by the time he reached the cut- 
ting of the chrl he had managed to find so many 
wicked deeds that it required a third rotation of his 
fingers to number them all. Helen in her horror 
stricken suspense was looking at his fingers as if 
each one were a human being charging her with 
something. 


A cm VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 115 

“ A.nd since,” lie went on, when at length he 
had finished the dreadful reckoning, “ that shaker 
bonnet has been the cause of such temptation to you, 
that shaker bonnet must furnish your punishment. 
You shall wear it to school instead of the one you 
are accustomed to wear, and for one month you 
shall wear it to table at every meal ; also, that you 
may have a still more lasting reminder of your many 
crimes you shall put on that bonnet now and come 
with me to my barber’s. I shall have him cut off 
your hair.” 

“ All my curls ! oh, papa, don’t do that. I’ll never, 
never, never be so wicked again. Oh, papa, papa.” 

The awful thought of having to lose her beautiful 
curls gave her courage to plead, and breaking once 
more into sobs she knelt at his feet and clasped his 
knees. But to all her entreaties he answered by 
taking out his watch, and saying : 

“If within three minutes you are not ready to 
come with me, I shall have your head entirely 
shaved.” 

She rose at once, put on the dreadful shaker, and 
with her eyes full of tears but saying no more, she 
went with him. He waited only to take his hat from 
the stand in the hall, not taking the slightest notice 
of his wife who hearing him and Helen descending 
the stairs had come out from the parlor where she 
had been waiting in angry suspense. 

“ Where are you going she asked sharply of 
her husband, but he made no answer, and Helen did 
not dare to say a word. 

Mrs. Blun stood, staring after the pair as if she 
thought both of them had become insane ; she even 
rushed to the steps to look after them; but that did 
not help her much. If it were not for the attention 
it would attract from the neighbors — being still day- 
light — she would have followed them for, never be- 
fore had she been treated quite so discourteously by 
her husband, and she could not understand why 
Helen should wear that abominable bonnet. 


116 A GHIVALR 0 US DEED, AND WUA T CAME OF IT. 


She flitted from the parlor to the hall and from the 
hall to the parlor till they came back, and by that 
time the daylight had gone and the street lamps 
were lighted. 

The shaker coming out so far over Helen’s face did 
not let her mother see the tears that covered her face, 
and the long silk cape hid the fact that she had lost 
her curls. 

“Go to bed at once, Helen,” commanded her 
father, “ and you, Mrs. Blun,” speaking to his wife, 
“come into the parlor.” They were then in the hall. 

Helen, glad to go to her room so that she could sob 
out her very heart went as fast as she could up the 
stairs while Mrs. Blun, divided between indignation, 
wonder, and fear, went into the parlor. 

Her wonder was increased when she sa\v that her 
liiisband carried an oblong shaped paper box, and it 
was increased still more when he uncovered the box 
and she saw a mass of soft shining golden curls. 

“Do you know this hair, Mrs. Blun ?” he asked, 
“it has just been cut from the head of your daughter, 
Helen.’*’ 

“ Oh, Elliott !” she almost shrieked, betrayed by 
her dismay into calling her husband by his first 
name, 

“ You haven’t had Helen’s hair cut off ?” 

“ There is the proof that 1 have done so, Mrs. Blun, 
and now ring for Catharine and have her bring Lulu 
down here.” 

“Mr. Blun!” 

Mrs. Blun had managed to recover herself. 

“ Are you out of your mind ? Lulu is asleep ; and 
what has she done that she is to be brought down 
here ?” 

“ Mrs. Blun, as insanity was never in my family, 
I resent your charge, and I ask you again to ring for 
Catharine.” 

Mrs. Blun did so, more as a means to have the 
mystery explained, than from any sense of duty, and 


A cm VALRO its deed, and WNA T game of it. 1 17 


in a few minutes Lulu, only partly awake was 
brought down in Catharine’s arms. Her father took 
one of the curls from the box and held it up before 
her, asking sternly : 

*• What did you do with the curl like this, that 
Helen cut off for you on Saturday 
His manner as much as his question awakened Lulu 
fully ; she felt that either she was found out, or that 
she was about to be found out, and she began to cry, 
hiding her face in Catharine’s bosom. But all that 
did not help her ; her father ordered : 

“ Put her on her feet.” 

Then he repeated his question, and Lulu with her 
fists in her eyes, said : 

‘H dess it wolled into the puddin’.” 

‘‘You rolled it into the pudding, didn’t you ?” 

“ It wolied in its own self out of my hand,” in her 
baby sharpness, making up her mind not to admit 
that she was guilty. 

“ Where were you when it rolled into the pud- 
ding ?” asked her father. 

“ I wos looking at it.” 

“But where,” said her father, “in which room of 
the house were you ?” 

“ Which woom f ’ she repeated, digging her fists 
still further into her eyes, and feeling that she was 
being most cruelly forced to tell on herself. 

“I dess it was in a woom down tairs.” 

“In which room down stairs?” asked Mr. Blun, 
while Mrs. Blun shrugging her shoulders said loud 
enough for her husband to hear : 

“ How ridiculous !” 

He took no notice of her but waited for the child’s 
answer. 

Lulu was as much afraid of her father as her 
brothers and sisters were ; but for all that, some- 
times she was bolder with him than any one of the 
others would dare to be \ this boldness came partly 
from the favor her cunning ways won for her, and 


118 A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


partly from a feeling that she was too little for her 
father to punish. Now, while he waited in stern 
silence for her to speak it came- into her bright little 
mind to turn tlie tables upon him by trying to make 
a bargain with him as she had done witli Helen. So 
she took her fists all at once out of her eyes, and 
looking up at him with such an arch expression in 
her own face it made it hard for Catharine not to 
laugh, she said with pert confidence : 

‘‘ WhatHFoo dive me if 1 relHoo where I wos.” 

But it did not cliange Mr. Blun, and his face looked 
just as stern as he answered : 

'‘I’ll punish you when you tell me, because you 
did such a wicked thing, and I’ll give you a double 
punishment if you don’t tell me at once in which 
room of this house you were when you put that hair 
into the pudding.” ' 

Finding that her little plan was of no use she put 
her fists again to her eyes and began to cry : Mrs. 
Blun in exasperated impatience said : 

“ Why don’t you get in a Judge and a jury to try 
the child 

But Mr. Blun, taking no notice of her remark, or- 
dered Lulu to stop crying and to answer him. 

The child’s fear of him since he was going to x)un- 
ish her in any case was now greater than ever, and 
she stojiped crying and took her hands from her face, 
but as to telling him that she had taken the curl to 
the kitchen, she felt somehow that the longer she 
put that off the better it would be for her, so she 
said : 

“When the tuii went into the puddin’ its ownself, 
me fordo t to look where I wos.” 

Such an astounding lie as that was, and the ease 
with which she told it were more than even Mr. Blun 
could endure calmly. He caught Liilu by the ear 
and lifted her out of the room into the hall; her 
screams startled everybody in the house. 

“ Now,” he said, his face white with anger, “ show 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT UQ 


me the room where you put that hair into the pud- 
ding, and don’t you make another sound.” 

Having no longer any hope that her tiny size would 
save her, she choked back everything but a sob, and 
toddled down before him to the kirchen ; Mrs. Blun 
followed with angry mutterings, and even Catharine, 
drawn by her curiosity, brought up the rear. 

Every servant in the house knew there was some- 
thing disagreeable going on up stairs ; unfortunately, 
disagreeable things happened very often up stairs, 
and the servants had a way of very quickly finding 
them out. This time they all knew from what Jane 
had told them of Lizzie Morrell’s visit, about the 
shaker bonnet, but they did not know the punish- 
ment that had been given to Helen, nor did any of 
them except Catharine, know the cause of Lulu’s 
screams. These had brought Cook from the kitchen 
range to the basement hall, and Jane from the china 
closet to the threshold of the dining room ; but 
both went back at the sight of the procession com- 
ing down stairs. 

*‘Go to the spot where you put the hair into the 
pudding,” said Mr. Blun, when Lulu, having got 
into the kitchen looked about her in a scared manner. 
She toddled over to the table where she had stood 
when she mixed the curl with the batter. 

JS’ow show how you did it.” 

But the child felt she must still stick to what she 
had said at first, so she repeated : 

“ The dish of puddin’ wos here with a poon in it 
an’ the turl jumped out of my hand onto the poon, 
and the poon went wound with the turl, till I 
touldn’t see the turl any more.” 

Catharine found it very hard again to keep from 
laughing, while the cook, her mouth wide open from 
wonder felt all at once, that it was going to be 
shown how she had nothing to do with the hair in 
the pudding, and that without having told her own 
suspicions about Lulu ; now, she could not help say- 
ing : 


120 ^ CUlVALHOlfS DEtSi>, AND WBAl' CAME OF IT. 

She means the dish of batter that I had ready to 
bake on Saturday. It was on the table and after I 
mixed it I remember leaving the table spoon in it.” 

‘‘That will do, then,” said Mr. Blun, and Lulu all 
at once felt better ; she was sure her father be- 
lieved what she had told him, and that he would not 
Xmnish her ; she said almost gleefully : 

‘* I tole you, papa, I didn’t do it ; it dot into the 
puddin’ its own self.” 

But what was her dismay to hear her father say : 

“ That is a lie, and young as you are, you know it 
to be a lie. You put the hair into the pudding, and 
your punishment shall be to go to bed without your 
dinner for a week, to have no dessert of any kind for 
a month, and every day for five days to be shut up 
a quarter of an hour in a dark closet.” 

Mrs. Blun, angry beyond all control by this utter 
ignoring of her judgment in the punishment of the 
child, said : 

“Couldn’t you prescribe bread and water for her 
also, for the next six months, Mr. Blun f’ 

But, as before, he took no notice of her. He turned 
to Catharine who had not gone beyond the threshold 
and said : 

“ I shall depend upon you to see that my orders 
are strictly carried out.” 

“Yes sir,” answered Catharine promptly, feeling 
that it was for her best interests to obey the master. 

The master turned to the cook : 

“ Being cleared now from all blame about the pud- . 
ding of Saturday night, if you choose to keep your 
place in my family, I shall be satisfied to have you 
do so.” 

The cook said : 

“Very well, sir.” 

All this time Lulu was crying, but crying very 
softly, for she was afraid to cry aloud. The thought 
of being shut up in a dark closet was the most 
dreadful punishment of all, for like many children, 


A GBl VALRO U8 DEBD, A RI) WHA T GAME OP If. 

she had a violent terror of being left alone in the 
dark, and as a last plea when her father told Cath- 
arine to take her up to bed, she said piteously as she 
was going past him in Catharine’s arms : 

‘‘ Oh, papa ; the turl did do in its ownself to the 
puddin’ ; I only had it in my hand.” 

Thus keeping up her lie made Mr. Blun more an- 
gry ; he did not think that he ought to try to get 
her to tell the truth, he only thought that it was ail 
his wife’s fault for not maintaining his discipline in 
the house ; that had she done so her children would 
not lie, nor disobey. He turned to her and said : 

“ Since our business in the kitchen is done, Mrs. 
Blun, we shall go to the parlor.” 

He led the way, and she followed, scowling at him, 
and she said as soon as they reached the parlor : 

“ You are worse than a savage, Mr. Blun. To 
think that you have actually cut off all Helen’s beau- 
tiful hair. What a fright she must be !” and then 
in a sort of hysterical anger she laughed aloud. 

She felt worse that Helen had lost her hair than 
that Helen had told a lie, and worse that she had to 
put off buying her lace than that Helen had dishon- 
estly taken the dollar. With regard to Lulu’s false- 
hood, she thought it showed the child to be bright 
and clever, and that if her husband were not a sort 
of bluebeard, he would have thought so too. Mr. 
Blun said with grim sternness : 

“ Hereafter, Mrs. Blun, I — ” the “I” was so long 
drawn out, Mrs. Blun wondered when the next 
word would come — “ shall see that there is no fur- 
ther violation of the discipline in my family ; my 
rules shall be obeyed by every one who dwells under 
my roof.” 

In order not to hear Mrs. Blun’s answer he 
turned back to the hall, took his hat and went out. 

“Discipline!” how Mrs. Blun hated the word 
even more than poor Miss Olden did. At that very 
moment Miss. Olden was getting ready a list of 


122 ^ CniVALliOUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 

questions ih geograpliy ; she had yielded to the 
temptation. 

Shorn Helen did not dare to' look at herself in the 
glass ; all that she did was to fling the shaker as 
far away as she could, to throw herself upon the bed, 
and hide her face in the pillow while she cried and 
sobbed pitifully. Not that she felt sorry for any of 
her wrong deeds ; she had no feelings but anger, 
hatred, and a sense of cruel treatment. She hated 
Nanny, she hated Lizzie, and she hated her father. 
Beside the blow to her pride by having her hair cut 
off, she had the horrible anticipation of meeting her 
schoolmates the next day without her curls, and 
wearing that disgusting shaker bonnet. If only she 
dared to do so, she would tear it into bits, but she 
did not know what other dreadful punishment her 
father might inflict upon her. 

Oh, how miserable she was, and there was not one 
to comfort her ; that thought made her sob the more, 
and she hid her face so far in the pillow lest her sobs 
should be heard, that she did not know her mother 
had come in, till her name was called twice. Then 
she started and sat up in the bed. 

The light from the street lamp was sufficient 
to show her plainly, and she did look strange and 
pitiable enough. Her hair by Mr. Blun’s order had 
been cut so close to her head it made her face look 
much smaller and her dark blue eyes now swimming 
in tears much larger. Mrs. Blun thinking only how 
homely the child looked, never thought of pitying 
her. 

‘‘ What a fright you are,” she said, at which Helen 
sank down again on the bed, and hid her face in the 
pillow. 

“ I hope the next time you’ll give me the correct 
change, and not make such trouble as this in the 
house— and now you had better undress or your 
father’s delightful discipline may make him come up 
here to see if you have gone to bed.’ ’ 


A CmVALRO US DEED, AND WE A T GAME OF IT. 123 

And without a hint of pity, or comfort, or any- 
thing that might help poor Helen to better feelings, 
she left the room. 

But what she said about the “delightful disci- 
pline” of Mr. Blun had its effect. Helen undressed 
and went to bed, and at length she fell asleep. 


124 ^ GHIVALROVS demd, and what game of it. 


CHAPTER XI. 

When Helen awoke the next morning and thought 
of the mortification in store for her, she hated the 
very sunshine, and when it came to going down to 
breakfast with the shaker on, she burst into tears. 

The children all wanted to laugh when they saw 
her seated at the table with the queer, poky looking 
bonnet on, except Walter and Lulu. Walter as kind 
hearted as he was mischievous, was sorry for his sis- 
ter, and when he caught sight of her tear-stained face 
he gave Arden a sly, reproving kick for so much as 
smiling. Lulu was in such terror of the dark closet 
she was to go into that very day, she could see no 
amusement in the bonnet ; the bonnet was the cause 
of her trouble. 

When everybody was seated, Mr. Blun, in a very 
solemn manner told them all why Helen wore the 
shaker bonnet and then he made her take it off for 
a moment to let them see her other punishment. 

Her strange appearance set the children to sly gig- 
gling again, but Walter having manfully made up 
his mind not only to keep from smiling himself, but 
to do what he could to keep the others from hurting 
his sister’s feelings, kicked on both sides of him. 
His foot going further than he intended struck Lulu, 
she gave a howl that startled everybody and brought 
Mr. Blun to his feet. 

‘‘ Walter ticked me,” she said, wanting to explain 
immediately for fear she should be punished for 


A CHIVALBO[rS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 125 

breaking so dreadfully the solemn silence of the 
breakfast table. 

‘‘I couldn’t help it, papa,” said Walter, darting 
a look at Lulu that told her he would give it to her 
by and by for that tattling. 

Mr. Blun felt that this disturbance was surel}^ due 
to his wife’s want of discipline, and he turned to her 
and said : 

Mrs. Blun, for the future will you see that the 
decorum of meal times is not broken ?” 

“Do you expect me to go under the table and watch 
the children’s legs, Mr. Blun ?” 

Her answer made most of the children want to tit- 
ter aloud, but they were too much afraid of tbeir fa- 
ther ; he said very sternly : 

“I expect you, Mrs. Blun, to so discipline your 
children that it will never occur to them to use their 
legs, or their arms, or any of their various organs in 
any way but the right way, or at any time but the 
right time.” 

After that the meal went on with its usuri silence. 

The walk to school that morning was tin dreariest 
walk Helen Blun ever had taken, and it seemed to 
her as if she reached the school door all too soon, 
though she had not left home till the last minute so 
as not to have to meet the embarrassing remarks of 
the girls ; by thus timing herself, her classmates 
would have formed on the line and there would not 
be much opportunity to speak to her. 

She did think she should say, that, as the weather 
was getting so warm her father thought it well to 
have her hair cut, but Lizzie Morrell’s visit to the 
house, wliich of course, Lizzie would tell about, might 
make the girls not quite believe that the weather was 
the cause of her short hair. So, not knowing what 
she should say, she went into the class room taking 
off the shaker almost on the threshold. 

The girls had formed in line, and of course, when 
so formed it was against the rule to talk, but at sight 


126 cm VALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

of Helen’s head a murmur of astonishment and 
amusement went up from the whole class. There 
were two little girls who pitied Helen very much ; 
these were Lizzie Morrell and Nanny Tavish ; they 
both saw the signs of trouble in her face. 

Nanny thought Helen must be ill, and in her pity 
she longed for recess so as to tell her she was sorry 
for what she had said the day before ; and as Helen 
herself wore the shaker to school, it made it easier 
for Nanny to speak to her. Lizzie Morrell thought 
that Helen’s hair had been cut olf, and that she wore 
the bonnet as punishment for something wrong she 
had done about the shaker ; also that her visit to 
Helen’s home had a good deal to do with it, and she 
was very sorry for having made the visit. Her sor- 
rowtook away every feeling for Helen Blun but pity, 
and she was as ready to take her part if the girls 
should make fun of her, as she had been to take the 
part of Nanny Tavish. 

Helen was sure that Lizzie would lose no opportun- 
ity of showing how glad she was to see her looking 
so odd, and all through the morning assembly she 
dreaded the return to the class room ; when she 
found that Lizzie only looked at her in the kindest 
manner it surprised her so much she almost forgot 
how wretched she felt. And Lizzie did not stop with 
kind looks ; while the class was ciphering, the 
girl next to Lizzie, seizingthe oi)portunity when Miss 
Olden was looking at the slates of the girls on the 
opposite side of the room, wrote upon her slate : 

“Don’t Helen Blun look like a Scare-crow ?” 

But Lizzie, to the girl’s amazement, instead of 
smiling and nodding, or writing an answer in the af- 
firmative on her own slate, burst out with : 

“ No, she doesn’t look like a scare-crow no mor’n 
you do,” in her anger she had forgotten even to speak 
in a whisper. 

Miss Olden, full of the coming examination was 
almost in a fever trying to go over a good many 


A GHIVALRO US DEED, ARD WHAT GAME OF IT. 127 

studies in the time that was barely enough for one 
subject ; so that anything that would stop or delay 
her in her work by diverting the attention of the 
class was particularly irri rating. K-ecognizing Lizzie’s 
voice, she turned and said sharply : 

‘‘Lizzie Morrell go to the front of the room, and 
do not take your seat with the class all day.” 

Thus, poor Lizzie was again in disgrace, but this 
time she did not care very much, beyond feeling 
angry with Miss Olden. She put her slate on her 
arm and took her time in such an amusing manner 
to get to the front of the room that it was fun for 
the girls just to watch her : but Miss Olden was look- 
ing at the slates again and she did not see her. 

In the yard at recess, Helen received more com- 
fort that she did not expect. Nanny Tavish went 
bravely up to her, and said loud enough for all the 
girls in the vicinity to hear : 

‘‘I am sorry, Helen, that I spoke to you so rude- 
ly yesterday ; it was very kind of you to bring a 
shaker for me, and I thank you just the same as if 
I had taken it, but of course, I couldn’t take it,” 
and then she smiled and turned away to another 
part of the yard. 

That speech in addition to what Lizzie Morrell 
had said to the girl wlio had written that Helen 
looked like a scarecrow prevented the girls from 
making any more fun of Helen, or saying anything 
to her about having to wear the shaker herself : and 
as soon as Helen found out all that, she felt just as 
proud and superior as ever ; she even said to her 
particular friends in the class : 

I just thought I’d wear the shaker myself ; it is 
new, you know, and it wouldn’t be right to let it go 
to waste.” 

“Yes,” answered one of the girls, “ and it comes 
in first rate for you, now ; it doesn’ t show that your 
hair is cut off.” 

‘‘ Oh, I don’t care for that,” said Helen, speaking 
with a very high air of contempt. 


128 ^ GEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


“I’m real glad my hair is cut off,” then, all at 
once having a new thought, she went on : 

“It was such a trouble, you know, those long 
curls — I had to brush and brush them till my arms 
ached.” 

Most of the girls beleived her, but when Lizzie 
Morrell heard it she smilled ; it was a smile that 
showed she did not believe a word of it, but she did 
not say anything. To poor Helen herself, the lie 
did not bring any pleasure ; it only sank her deeper 
in a miserable knowledge of her wickedness. 

That afternoon, when Miss Olden tried for the 
first time to drill the class in the geography questions 
for Examination, it seemed to her as if Helen Blun’s 
stupidity, Lizzie Morrell’s indifference, and the 
carelessness of most of the other girl’s would drive 
her frantic. She had arranged the girls so that the 
brighter ones did not stand beside each other, but 
were scattered along the line ready to cover up any 
failure that might occur, and Helen Blun who was 
generally one of these bright girls, was given a place 
of honor. Then Miss Olden numbered each girl, 
and after that she went on to give from a written 
list the questions in geography. 

She did not tell the class why she was doing 
this, and though most of the girls were surprised, no 
one ventured to ask anything about it. Miss Olden 
intended to study the questions herself, and to study 
them in their order, just as they were numbered, 
the one at the head of the list first, the next one, 
second, and so on, till she should know them all, and 
should be able to give them without the paper ; so, 
she said to the class before beginning: 

“ I want each girl to remember the answer that I 
tell her to give to my question, and every time this 
week that we have a geography lesson, she is to give 
me that same answer, for I shall ask her the same 
question I am going to ask her now. Do you un- 
derstand ?” 

They answered : 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 129 

‘‘ Yes ma’an],” most of them at the same time 
looking? pleased, for that plan of geography for the 
week was going to save them the trouble of study- 
ing. 

Then Miss Olden went on with her drill repeating 
the answer she wanted, and at the end of a tire- 
some, spiritless hour, she asked Helen Blun : 

“ What is the government of the United States V'’ 

Helen answered in a loud voice : 

“ It’s a constitutional monarchy governed by one 
man and his ministers.” 

Miss Olden lost all patience ; she struck the table 
with her copy of questions, and said : 

‘‘ Helen Blun, did you lose your brains when your 
hair was cht off ?” 

That caused a shout of laughter from the class, 
and the laughter was such a happy change from 
what had gone before it, that they kept it up even 
after Miss Olden had struck the table with the ruler, 
and called “ silence.” 

When it at last subsided, Lizzie Morrell renewed 
it again by laughing herself in such a ludicrous 
manner that the class shouted louder than before, 
and Miss Amer on the platform talking to one of the 
trustees, hearing the laughter three distinct times, 
excused herself hurriedly, and went to the class 
room. Throwing open the door she stood in all the 
awful dignity of a Principal, and a Principal who 
was tall, masculine looking, and who wore a stiff 
satin dress. She wanted to know the cause of such 
disorder. Her question was put to the startled 
teacher, and almost every girl felt that the teacher 
would be blamed much more than the class. 

Poor Miss Olden’s red, scared looking face helped 
to make them think so, and she stammered that 
something had been said that made the girls laugh. 

‘‘Then you must be careful for the future to 
avoid everything of that kind,” said Miss Amer 
severely, and looking over the crooked, line of girls 


130 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

— they had tried to relieve the tiresomeness of 
saying the same thing over and over by standing as 
much out of a straight line as possible. 

‘‘ What are tliey doing Miss Amer asked; 

‘‘I was hearing some questions in geography,” 
■Miss Olden answered, her knees shaking lest Miss 
Amer should inquire further, and so discover the 
truth about the questions : but the Principal merely 
said : 

“ Have them stand in order, and not lean on the 
desks, nor against the wall in that manner.” 

Then, to the relief of everybody she went out. 

Poor Miss Olden ! she, as well as Helen Blun, be- 
gan to feel that the way of the wrong doer was hard.” 
She had gone against her conscience in this matter 
of geography, and now she was suffering for it, in 
her fear, her guilt, and the loss of her own self re- 
spect. She knew it would be better to let the whole 
class fail than to take such dishonest means to have 
them do well, but, all that Miss Hobson had said 
came back to her mind ; then in addition, the time 
was so short to prepare her pupils in geography 
when there were so many other studies. And it be- 
ing likely the Superintendent would examine in the 
other studies himself, geography was the only one 
that gave her such an opportunity. She was anx- 
ious to have her class do well ; it she received a good 
mark for the Examination it would insure her own 
promotion, and now the temptation again carried the 
day. When she went home that afternoon it was to 
adhere to her plan of studying her list of questions. 


A CHI VALRO US JJEKI), AMD WEAT GAME OF IT. 131 


CHAPTER XII. 

The next morning when the school was assembled 
Miss Amer announced the Examination from the 
platform. In those days such Examinations were 
held in the main room, and they formed a sort of 
public exhibition as well, so Miss Amer also told the 
children they might invite their parents. 

Nanny Tavish longed for school to be dismissed so 
she could tell her good news, and she was delighted 
when her mother said : 

‘‘I shall manage somehow, so as to go dear ; even 
if I have to work all night to make up for it.” 

Helen Blun said nothing about the invitation at 
her home ; if her father should accept it, she would 
be frightened out of everything slie knew, and her 
mother cared too little how Helen was getting on in 
school for Helen to take the trouble to invite her. 
Lizzie Morrell of course, told her uncle all about it, 
and Lizzie almost cried to think he was not able to 
go. Mrs. Morrell from the next room heard what 
they w^ere saying : 

“ What’s that, Lizzie?” she said, ‘‘examination 
at the school, and the parents of the children can go 
to see it. Is that what you’re telling?” 

“Yes said Lizzie, not wanting to answer, but 
doing so because Had made a sign to her to do so. 

“Then, so long as your uncle can’t go,” said Mrs. 
Morrell, “I’ll go. though you didn’t have the man- 
ners to ask me ; itUl be x^i’oper and perlite for some 


132 -4 cm VALEO US DEED, AED WHAT GAME OF IT. 


one as has the charge of you to go to see how you’re 
get tin’ along, Lizzie; I haven’ t much book learnin’ 
myself, but ril know at the examination if you’re pay- 
ing proper attention to your reading, and 3^oui* spell- 
ing, and the like.” 

Lizzie looked dismayed, but her uncle smiled, and 
whispered : 

‘‘ Let her have her way ; don’t mind for my sake.’’ 

Even Lizzie had to laugh when after a little the 
parrot repeated : ' 

‘‘Your spelling and the like.” 

The great day arrived, and every scholar came to 
school in either an entirely new dress, or with the 
old one so clean and trim it looked almost as good 
as the new ones. There had been plenty of soap used 
on every face, and short hair and long hair, and curly 
hair and straight hair had been brushed and ar- 
ranged till it would have been hard to pick out one 
untidy head in the whole school. The teachers also 
wore their best dresses, and in most cases had given 
to them a touch of summer beauty by wearing flow- 
ers in their belts or at their breasts. 

On the platform Miss Amer looking more like a 
severe school mistress than ever, was giving the offi- 
cial welcome to the trustees, and to the friends of 
the pupils. Among those who came early and so 
got seats on the platform, were Mrs. Morrell and 
Mrs. Tavish, and they happened to sit next to each 
other. 

Mrs. Morrell wore anew bright j^ellow French lawn 
dress made with a spencer waist, and it showed Mrs. 
Morrell’s large size as nothing else would have done. 
On her arm, she had a white crepe shawl, Bartholo- 
mew’s present when they were married, and only 
worn on state occasions like the present. Her bonnet 
had pink trimmings and it was so small it looked as 
if it were perched on the top of her head. Her large 
round face was an amusing sight under such a little, 
ehowy bonnet, and as she sat there on one of the front 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 133 


seats of tlie platform every eye seemed directed to- 
ward her. 

But Mrs. Morrell herself, felt very happy ; nor 
was she at all abashed by the learning and refinement 
about her. Not knowing who Mrs. Tavish was she 
did not give her a second look, but Mrs. Tavish rec- 
ognized Mrs. Morrell, and she could not help smil- 
ing a little at the vulgar taste shown in Mrs. Morrell's 
dress. 

Her own dress was a black one that had done duty 
for seven years, but it had been so nearly kept, it 
looked well still ; she also wore a black shawl, and 
a black straw bonnet trimmed very simply with black 
ribbon. 

The classes marched from their rooms in perfect 
order, each girl feeling that she must do her best. 

Miss Olden was so nervous* that her cheeks were 
red and hot, and her hands and feet were cold. Be- 
cause of the desire of each girl to behave well, she 
did not have to pay much attention to them, and she 
was very thankful. 

To carry out her plan about the geography, her 
class ill the large room was seated in the same order 
that it had been seated in the class room for more 
tiiari a week. 

At former examinations, each girl when her turn 
came to be examined stood up on the seat she occu- 
pied, and Miss Olden thought the same arrangement 
would prevail at this one. 

There were no absences, and every pupil seemed 
eager to do her very best both as to order and scholar- 
ship. 

The ’‘First Class” which was also the highest, 
and which had in it girls much larger and older 
than Nanny and her classmates, was examined first ; 
but Miss Tibberty was the teacher of the First Class, 
and Miss Tibbetty liaving taught for a great many 
years knew just how to give her orders. 

Each giiTmounted her bench with great self-pos- 


134 ^ GHIVALR 0 US DEED, AND WUA T GAME OF IT. 


session, showing that she was quite ready for any 
lest, and when Superintendent Jonas said he would 
like a little arithmetic, Miss Tibbetty smiled sweetly, 
and put up her finger to the class. Each girl 
stooped, and stooping Avaited for another sign from 
Miss Tibbetty ; she gave it by means of her finger 
again, and out of the desks came the slates without 
a sound, and all at the same moment. 

Still another sign with Miss Tibbetty’ s right hand 
fore finger, and each girl’s arms were folded over 
her slate, and their owners were standing like a row 
of statues. A murmur of admiration went up from 
the audience. 

Miss Tibbetty must have known all the little se- 
crets connected with a successful examination for 
her class came off with such fiying colors in the 
very first quarter of an hour, that the Superinten- 
dent said he was quite satisfied, and the ‘‘ Second 
Class” was told to mount the benches. 

The teacher of the Second Class was neither so 
old, nor so experienced in examinations as Miss 
Tibbetty was, so her class was not let off so quickly, 
but it did well, and the “Third Class,” taught by 
Miss Robson was called. 

Miss Olden envied the easy, self-possessed man- 
ner with which Miss Robson walked to a place sev- 
eral feet in front of her class so tiiat she might be 
seen as well as heard, while she gave her orders ; 
and Miss Olden envied Miss Rbbson still more when 
she heard her say in a loud, pleasant voice : 

‘‘ Will you have Arithmetic first, Mr. Jonas?” 

‘‘Well, I don’t care if I do;” cried tiie gentle- 
man, “let’s have a little Arithmetic, Miss Robson, 
to see what these girls can do in the way of reck- 
oning up milliner’s and dressmaker’s bills. You 
give them a sum. Miss Robson.’’ 

Miss Robson gave them a sum which they did so 
quickly and so correctly, that Mr. Jonas gave them 
another ; that, they did not do so quickly, nor so 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AJSD WHAT CAME OF IT. 135 


correctly ; but Miss Robson continued to look so 
self-possessed, and so pleased that the girls them- 
selves thought they must be doing very well. 

Then, Mr. Jonas examined them in oral spelling, 
and as only one girl failed, he thought their excel- 
lent spelling atoned somewhat for the suspicious 
want of promptness and accuracy they showed in 
working out the sum he had given them. 

“Now, Miss Robson,” he said, ‘‘give them a few 
questions in grammar,” and the shrewd young lady 
feeling that she had nearly made a blunder in the 
arithmetic by giving them an example they had 
done three times the day before, began to examine 
in grammar with great slowness, as if she were try- 
ing to think what questions to give. But that did 
not deceive Miss Olden : 

She said to herself : 

“Miss Robson has drilled her class in every one 
of those questions, the same as I have done in geog- 
raphy.” 

But no suspicion of that seemed to dawn on any- 
body else’s mind, and Miss Robson was told that 
would do. She signed to her class to be seated, and 
she went back to her own place as if she were very 
much pleased. 

The “• Fourth Class” was called, and Miss Olden’s 
heart began to beat like a trip hammer ; indeed it 
seemed to stop beating altogether when, just as slie 
had given the signal to her class to stand. Miss 
Amer said : 

“Miss Olden, bring your class to the front row of 
benclies ; the First Class will change seats with it 
for the present.” 

That order quite confused Miss Olden, nervous 
as she was already. *Slie did not even think to have 
lier class forward in such order as would bring the 
girls to the same numbered places as those they had 
left ; so each scholar marched in the order most 
convenient to herself, and by the time the whole 


136 ^ GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT, 

class was standing on the front row of benches each 
girl was in a different place. 

To complete Miss Olden’s dismay her voice was 
so low when she spoke, Miss Amer asked her to 
stand on the lower step of the platform. 

That position enabled everybody to see her so well 
she thought she should faint, but she did not, and 
by trying to look alone at her class, she managed 
not to betray her feelings. She hoped with all her 
heart that Mr. Jonas would begin the examination 
so as to give her time to compose herself, but what 
was her horror to hear him say : 

“ I think we shall have a little geography in this 
class. Give them a few questions, Miss Olden.” 

Alas, for the day on which Miss Olden took the 
advice ot* Miss Robson ; not a question of all that 
she had so carefully written, and so laboriously 
committed to memory, could she think of ; she could 
think of nothing but questions which she knew no 
one in her class could answer, questions that she 
had never asked them. Her cheeks were blazing, 
but her hands and feet were as cold as those of a 
corpse ; she could feel the fans in the audience play- 
ing about her, and she knew everybody was wait- 
ing for her to begin. The members of her own 
class were waiting in breathless expectation. 

Oh, that horrible wait I no prisoner about to be 
sentenced could have suffered more, and it was like 
the awful moment when the drop falls, when at 
length she managed to say : 

“ In what country do we live 

‘‘ Africa,” quickly answered the girl at the head 
of the line whose question according to Miss Olden’s 
plan in the class room should have been, 

“ In what country is the Great Desert ?” 

‘‘Next,” said Miss Olden, and the next girl ut- 
terly" confused by a question so different from that 
which had been drilled into her for a whole week, 
said at a venture ; 

“Asia,” 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 137 


“Next,” again said Miss Olden, her brain begin- 
ning to beat as well as her heart. 

“Australia,” was the answer, and then Superin- 
tendent Jonas out of pity for the teacher, and to do 
something to change the solemn looks of the audi- 
ence. said : 

“ What little girl in the class can tell the country 
she lives in?” 

He spoke so cheerfuly it seemed to cover a little 
the failures thus far, and even to make the poor 
teacher feel a little better. 

Nanny Tavish’s hand went up at once: a few 
others followed but tliey went up so slowl3^ that 
their owners did not seem to be quite sure, and Mr. 
Jonas told Nanny to answer. 

“We live in the United States of North America,” 
she said in her clear little voice, and blushing while 
she spoke; her mother blushed also with delight 
and pride. 

“That is right, my bright little girl, so we do,” 
said Mr. Jonas, rubbing his hands together in a 
hearty way, and looking round at the audience as 
much as to say : 

“There isn’t going to be any bad work there ; 
just give’ em time and they’ll come out all right,” 
and then he went on so as to make stronger the 
good impression he thought he had given to every- 
bod3^ 

“ Of course we live right here in the great United 
States of North America ; not in Africa, not in Asia, 
but here, right here,” saying the last words as if he 
expected some one to contradict him : as nobody 
did, he said to Miss Olden : 

“Give ’em some more questions. Miss Olden: 
they’ll come out all right.” 

His hopeful tone made Miss Olden feel so much 
better that the questions she had forgotten came 
back to her ; but since the girl’s places were changed 
it would be no use to give the questions in the order 


138 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


she had drilled them in the class room ; so she 
struck out anywhere, asking : 

‘‘ Wliac is geography 

The girl to whom this question was put, had told 
every day for over a week what an island was, so 
she answered now : 

Geography is a portion of land, big or little, 
entirely surrounded by water.” 

That was a dreadful blunder ; Superintendent 
Jonas felt it to be a sort of breaking of his promise 
that the class would do well if only time enough 
were given it, and he said in a low tone to Miss 
Olden : 

‘‘ Perhaps she didn’t understand your question ; 
ask it again.” 

Miss Olden did so, but she was told a second time 
that geography was “ a portion of land, big or little, 
entirely surrounded by water.” 

She passed the question to the next girl ; the next 
girl had told for a week what a volcano was, so she 
replied that : 

“ Geography sent forth smoke and ashes, and 
people living under it sometimes had to move.” 

Mr. Jonas began to feel more disturbed, but with 
a feeling of manhood he came once more to Miss 
Olden’s aid : anybody could see now she was dread- 
fully worked up. 

“ What little girl in the class can tell us what geog- 
raphy is ?” he asked, trying to speak as cheerfully 
as he did before, but everybody felt that he had lost 
much of his own hopefulness. 

A few hands were raised, Nanny Tavish’s and 
Helen Blun’s among the others. The Superintend- 
ent, however, felt more sure of the bright little girl 
who had answered before, so he called on Nanny, 
and once more her clear voice was heard without trip, 
or pause ; slie even added more from her owii study 
than Miss Olden had taught. 

That brought back the smile to Mr. Jonas’ face. 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 1 39 

and again he rubbed his hands together, and said, 
looking round at the audience : 

‘^They’ve been taught it; that bright little girl 
shows tliey have, and we’ll get ’em all right yet. Go 
ahead, Miss Olden, and ask ’em easy questions ; that 
about geography was, rather puzzling for such little 
folks.” 

Mrs. Tavish in her fond pride whispered impul- 
sively to Mrs. Morrell : 

That is my child.” 

Mrs. Morrell was not at all pleased to be told that, 
and she grunted, just to show that she heard the 
whisper but that was all. She was angry that Lizzie 
did not carry off some of the honors, and she felt 
somehow as if sitting beside the mother of the bright- 
est child in the class took away something from her 
own line clothes. 

The class itself, in spite of all that the Super- 
intendent did to encourage it, felt as if it were doing 
very badly, and Miss Olden's own manner helped 
that feeling ; then, the older girls were beginning to 
show anger at not being asked the proper questions. 

To the miserable teacher the order to give easy 
questions was as hard as if she had been told to give 
difficult ones ; Miss Olden had gone against her con- 
science, and it had turned to her own punishment. 

With a forlorn hope that the question she was 
going to put, might be answered correctly since it 
was Helen Blun’s turn, she asked in a trembling 
voice : 

‘‘ What is the good of mountains 

‘‘They’re good if people have goats to let them 
climb up on them,” replied Helen, not knowing of 
what earthly use mountains were, further than being 
mountains, but recollecting that in the picture book 
torn by her mischievous brothers and sisters, there 
had been a picture of some goats on a hill. 

That answer made the audience titter, and Super- 
intendent Jones, too much discouraged to try to 


140 ^ GEIVALROVSDEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


cover up this blunder, was silent ; Miss Olden, find- 
ing no one was going to help her, called on those 
who knew the correct answer to raise their hands. 
Only three hands responded, Nanny Tavish’s, Lizzie 
Morrell’s, and the girl to whom the question be- 
longed. 

Miss Olden called on Nanny, but Nanny did not 
get an opportunity to answer, for Mrs. Morrell who I 
could not contain her anger, that Lizzie was not 
asked, sprang up and fairly shouted : 

‘‘Since the teaclier won’t give you the chance, 
Lizzie, answer yourself ; show her and the rest of | 

them you’re not a numbskull of course you know 

the good of mountains.” 

Great amusement followed the amazement caused 
by this speech, and even the scholars laughed. As « 
for Lizzie, she buried her face in her hands to shut 
out the dreadful sight. 

Superintendent Jonas finding that the woman 
meant to continue standing, and to go on talking, 
said : 

“Sit down, Madame, and let the exercises go on.” 

“No sir : I’ll not sit down till there’s fair play at 
your examination. Tell the teacher there not to be 
giving all the questions to one child ; she ought to be 
ashamed of herself showing such partiality.” 

By this time the amusement and curiosity of the 
teachers had made them forget their classes, and 
these were twisting in their seats, stretching their 
necks, laughing, and even whispering, while the aud- 
ience forgetting all decorum, had risen, and every- 
body was struggling for a better sight of Mrs. Morrell; 
it had been easy enough to hear her. 

Miss Amer had to touch the little hand bell on the 
desk several times before she could bring the school 
to order, and Superintendent Jonas told Miss Olden 
to remove her class. Tlien, and then only, did Mrs. 
Morrell sit down, but she did so, very well satisfied 
with herself, 


A CBlVALROnS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF iT. 141 

The examination of the other classes was made 
very quickly, either because Superintendent Jonas 
did not recover his spirits; or that ije was afraid of 
the stout lady in yellow, and the children were sent 
to their class rooms thence to be dismissed for the 
day. 

The moment Miss Olden was alone with her pupils, 
she had to hear a perfect babel of angry complaints. 

“You told us you would ask us the questions we 
studied in the class room.” 

“You gave my question to Helen Blun.” 

“ You asked us questions we never had.” 

“I don’t care ! it wasn’t fair anyhow.” 

“ What’s the use of studying, if you’re going to 
be examined that way?” 

And a score of like speeches to all of which Miss Ol- 
den very red, and trembling, only replied : 

“ Hush !” 

“Take your seats.” 

She had not spirit enough left to threaten loss of 
marks or keeping in after school. 

The only ones who had nothing to say were Nanny, 
Helen and Lizzie. Nanny of course, had little need 
to say anything ; she had covered herself with credit, 
and she knew that this must have delighted her 
mother. 

Helen had no wish to say anything as her failure 
was not seen by anybody from "home, and alas ! she 
was secretly very glad that Lizzie Morrell had been 
made so much ashamed ; this she felt to be a sort of 
revenge for what Lizzie had caused her to suffer. 

Lizzie did not speak because she was too broken 
hearted to say a word. She knew, that only be- 
cause the girls had so much to complain about just 
now, they would have turned upon her with speeches 
about her aunt, and she was sure that every scholar 
and every teacher in the school knew who was the 
big, vulgar looking woman who had spoken out at 
the examination. She felt if it were not for Dad she 


142 -4 CmVALRO US DEED, AND WHAI CAME OF IT. 


would run away ; it was so dreadful never to know 
when she was going to be inortitied by that horrible 
woman. She did not hear the confusion of tongues 
about her; her head sank lower and lower on the 
desk till it was lying upon it with her arm thrown 
over it, and her eyes and her mouth shut tightly, 
in order to choke back her tears. 

Nanny Tavish watched Lizzie ; from her own sen- 
sitiveness she judged what was the matter, and as 
the girls were boldly leaving their seats and going 
to any part of the room they wished without asking 
permission, she felt as if she too might leave her 
seat in order to go to Lizzie : but her habit of obedi- 
ence was too strong ; she had broken it but once in 
the class, the occasion when she had dared to comfort 
Lizzie. Now she asked Miss Olden if she could rise. 

Miss Olden was surprised that any one should 
think of asking permission to do anything, when 
every girl in the room was doing just as she pleased 
regardless of the presence of the teacher, and the 
poor teacher had no spirit even to try to stop the 
disorder. Of course she said 

“ Yes,” to Nanny, but at the same time she mut- 
tered in a half mocking way to herself : 

“You are entirely too good for this wicked 
world.” 

Miss Olden was in just that state of mind from 
shame and failure as to be almost angry at any vir- 
tue in another. She watched Nanny cross the room, 
then she tried to restore order by shouting : 

“ Girls, take your seats, and the monitress give 
out the clothing.” 

The monitress went to the closet and began at 
once to throw the various articles of wardrobe to 
their owners. 

Nanny Tavish bent down to Lizzie Morrell and 
whispered : 

“ Are you sick, Lizzie ?” 

The big black eyes opened quickly with a flash 


A GBIVALRO VS DEED, AED WHAT GAME OF IT I43 

that spoke of anger, but the flash went out at sight 
of the sympathy in the face of Nanny, and she said 
softly : 

‘‘ No ; I am not sick.” 

Then Nanny wanted to say something more ; 
something to comfort the little girl for the shame 
she had suffered, but she felt perhaps as if it niigiit 
be better not, and she just bent down and kissed 
her ; then she glided back to her seat. 

Nanny’s silence was better than anything she 
could have said, for Lizzie was so sore on the sub- 
ject of Mrs. Morrell that she could not have borne 
a word. 

But Nanny’s kiss seemed like the touch of an an- 
gel, and it saved the child from giving way altogether 
to thoughts of bitterness and hatred. 

The disorderly class at length was ready to go 
home, but even when every girl had departed. Miss 
Olden seemed still to liear their angry mutterings. 
She was thankful to be alone and she sank into 
her chair and covered her face with her hands. 

To think that her class had been examined only 
in that wretched geography; not a question had 
been asked which would have shown the really faith- 
ful and conscientious work she had done in the other 
studies, and Miss Bobson, who she was sure had not 
alone drilled her class in prepared geography ques- 
tions, but prepared grammar questions as well, had 
come off with flying colors. If it had not been for 
Miss Robson she would not have thought of doing 
such a dishonest thing, and she would not now be 
disgraced in the eyes of everybody by the failure 
of iier class. Poor Miss Olden ! like most people 
who give way to temptation, she put the whole 
blame on the one who tempted her, and so she said 
to Miss Robson who came in at that moment : 

It is all your fault that my class did so badly.” 

My fault !” Miss Robson replied, in angry sur** 
prise. 


144 ^ GiltVALRO tJS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OP IT. 

‘‘Yes, your fault ; if I had not adopted your 
plan with those questions, my class would have done 
as well as anybody’s.” 

Miss Robson drew herself np and said very 
coldly : 

“i don’t understand, Miss Olden, how I am to 
blame for the failure of your class.” 

“ If I had not drilled my class in prepared ques- 
tions as you told me to do, they and I would not be 
confused when they had to change their seats for 
the examination, and they would not have failed ; 
that*is all.” 

“Drilled your class in prepared questions, as I 
told you to do,” said Miss Robson, this time with 
such a very angry manner that it rather scared Miss 
Olden. 

“Do I understand you, Miss Olden, to say that I 
told you to drill your class in prepared questions ?” 

Miss Robson brought her eyebrows together with 
a very severe look. 

“ I do not mean of course, that you told me to do 
it,” Miss Olden stammered, “ but you spoke of the 

plan, and, then ’’getting courage to speak more 

plainly — “ you know you prepared all the questions 
for your own class ; the grammar as well as the geog- 
raphy.” 

“Miss Olden!” 

Miss Olden fairly started at the tone in which her 
name was called ; it was so loud, so decided, and so 
very angry. 

“ What I have done or have not done in my class 
is no concern of yours, and don’ t you dare to say 
again that I told you to take a plan of drill ; If I 
gave you a hint in kindness and you were too stupid 
to act upon it correctly don’t go putting the fault of 
your stupidity on any one else’ s shoulders. Hence- 
forth, I shall know enough to keep my advice to my- 
self.” 

She flounced out of the room leaving Miss Olden 


A GBIVA LRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF If. 145 

more wretched than she had been before. She sank 
again into her chair wondering if she took some light 
work at domestic service it* it would not be better ; 
ill that position she would have but her mistress to 
fear; in this one she had Principal, Vice Principal, 
School officers, The Board of Education, and par- 
ents to dread. 

The other teachers flocked in to sympathize with, 
and to comfort her ; all except Miss Amer and Miss 
Tibbetty. 

Miss Tibbetty was too conscientiously careful of 
the welfare of the school to give sympathy to any 
teacher whose class could fail so shamefully, and 
Miss Amer was too busy in showing the flnal cour- 
tesies to the visitors, to think of seeing Miss Olden 
yet ; indeed, as her interview with that young lady 
would be a lengthy one, it seemed better to defer it 
till the next day. 

But the young teachers who were in Miss Olden’s 
room were full of sincere pity, and they gathered 
about the poor young woman and tried to comfort 
her. 

“It was enough to confuse anybody, the way the 
first girl answered,” said one. 

“And then of course, like a flock of sheep, the 
rest of the class had to follow suit, and answer 
wrong,” said a second. 

“But never mind,” said a third, “everybody in 
the school knows how hard you work.” 

The last remark proved to Miss Olden how little 
her companions dreamed of the unfair means she had 
used, and she burst out crying. That of course made 
the young things pity her still more, and one of them 
seating herself on the table drew Miss Olden’s head 
to her breast ; another stroked her hair, and a third 
said cheerfully : 

“Never mind, dearie ; it will be all the same a 
hundred years from now.” 


146 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


CHAPTEE XTII. 

Oleander Thimig, standing as usual in the door- 
way of the coffin shop saw Mrs. Morrell returning 
from the examination. 

He was afraid since that dreadful Saturday, to 
have her see him, and he ran to the rear part of the 
shop ; but when he thought she had passed he came 
out to look after her. 

He never had seen her so gayly dressed before and 
she made him think of one of the great sunflowers in 
his grandfather’s garden in the country. 

Mrs. Morrell walked very slowly as if she desired 
to show herself, and she nodded with delighted pride 
to the neighbors she happened to meet. As Tbimig 
watched the Arm even step of her great flat feet, he 
said sadly to himself : 

“ There aint much chance of anybody puttin’ her 
in a coffin.” v 

He watched her till she went into the house, and 
then he took his place again in the doorway. He 
had been thinking of Lizzie before Mrs. Morrell came 
along, and he began to think of her again. He felt 
very sore about the trouble she had brought upon 
him, but he cared so much for her he could not bear 
not to be good friends. Since that Saturday they 
had not spoken to each other. He wondered now 
how he could show her that he wanted to “make 
up,” and just then he saw her coming. She was 
walking quickly and looking on every side of her. 


A CHIVALEOVS DEED, AND WBAT GAME Off IT. I47 


Lizzie,” he called, and she stopped, but she 
looked as if she did not want to do so. 

‘‘ Mrs. Morrell just went into the house ; she had 
on a yaller dress.” 

Lizzie felt and looked relieved; all the way home 
she had been expecting to find Mrs. Morrell waiting 
for her, and had been carefully looking on every side 
fearing to see that dreadful yellow figure. 

She was passing on, but Thimig could not let her 
go without getting some comfort for himself : 

“You aint mad with me any longer, Lizzie, are 
you ? I aint mad, and I want to be glad with you 
now, if you’ll let me.’’ 

Lizzie stood and looked up into his stupid face 
feeling that whatever cause he had for being angry 
with her she certainly had none for being displeased 
with him, a^d he seemed to her as she looked at 
him like some poor animal that she ought to be kind 
to. 

“No, I’m not mad,” she said, pleasantly, “and 
I’m ^orry Oleander for getting you treated that way 
by Mrs. Morrell, I shouldn’ t have put that order on 
the slate.” 

“ Don’ t you never think another thing about that, 
Lizzie,” he replied with a beaming face : 

“ Taint no matter to anybody,” he went on, 
“and if ever you want anything done Lizzie, any- 
thing as’ 11 make you feel better anyway, you just 
count on Oleander Thimig.” 

“Thank you,” said his companion, not caring 
enough to wonder if he thought she might want to 
leave another order for a coffin for Mrs. Morrell. 
Then she hastened from him, and he whistled cheer- 
fully as once more he leaned against the door post. 

Mrs. Morrell still in the glory of her yellow dress, 
was giving to her husband an account of all that 
happened when Lizzie came in. 

“ There she is herself and she’ll tell you it is just 
as I am telling it,” she said, as she saw the child. 


148 ^ OhIVALRO us DEEt), AND WRA T GAME OE If . 


“Not a chance would they give her to speak but 
every question was put to just one little girl, and if 
Lizzie had a grain of the spirit of the Morrells in 
her, she’d have answered anyway, for any dunce 
would have known the good of a mountain — what 
good is it but to look at the country from the top 
of it. But 1 didn’t let it go with them ; I got up 
and told them what I thought of the favor the teacher 
was showing.” 

“Oh, Maria! you didn’t make a scene, surely,” 
said Mr. Morrell in dismay. 

“ Yes she did make a scene,” burst from Lizzie 
who was not able to keep still, ‘‘ and I don’t want 
ever to show my face there again, for everybody in 
the whole school knows it’s my uncle’s wife that 
got up and spoke out in tliat awful way, and they’ll 
all be talking about it, and I don’t want to see any 
of them any more as long as I live.” 

“Well, was there ever the like of that?” said 
Mrs. Morrell, very much surprised. 

“But, Maria ; you shouldn’t have made a show 
of yourself,” said Mr. Morrell, looking as if it were 
very hard for him just now to have his usual pa- 
tience with human nature. 

“A show of myself ! and is that what I get for 
taking the part of your brother’s child ; it’s well she 
calls me her uncle’s wife; but, Bartholomew Mor- 
timer Morrell, ’’she went on, ‘‘the day’ll come, maybe, 
when you’ll wish she was nothing to you — a show of 
myself, indeed !” 

With this the irate woman went out to the kitchen 
banging every door behind her, while Lizzie with a 
burst of tears at so cruel a prediction, threw her arms 
round her uncle’s neck, and sobbed : 

“You don’t believe her. Dad? you’ll never be 
sorry that you’re my uncle.” 

He replied : 

“ Never 1” 

“And you won’t ask me to go back there to 


A CmVALRO US DEED. AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 149 

school, Dad? I can’t, oh, I can’t face all the girls 
after the way she got up before everybody to- 
day.” 

Mr. Morrell did not have anything to say to that ; 
instead, he kissed the little girl, and kept his face 
against her own till he thought she had become 
quieter ; then he remarked very softly lest his wife 
should hear : 

“The doctor was here to-day, Lizzie, while Maria 
was out ; she didn’t think he’d come till to-morrow, 
and I havn’t told her yet. He gave me so much 
hope of getting quite well after a little, that I’ve been 
thinking.” 

Lizzie lifted her face from his cheek and looked at 
him full of joyful expectation. 

“ Yes, I’ve been thinking,” he went on, “ think- 
ing that we might move away from this neighbor- 
hood just as soon as the rheumatism leaves me, and 
thinking to send you, Lizzie, to some drawing school 
where you’ll learn how to make pictures.” 

Lizzie in her delight hugged him so tightly he 
could hardly breathe for a moment ; then, all at once, 
a fear clouded her joy. 

“ You don’t mean to send me away ; away some- 
where where I couldn’t see you every day ?” 

“No, little ’un; I could hardly do that; but 1 
mean to have you go somewhere almost every day, 
perhaps in the afternoons so you won’t lose your 
other lessons. You haven’t done any of your pict- 
ures since Maria upset your room so, have you?” 

“ No ; I felt it wasn’ t any use : I couldn't know 

when she’d tear up things again, and ” she 

stopped suddenly, for it just then came to her how 
she had made up her mind not to tell him that 
she was saving for something else the money he 
gave her to buy drawing cards and crayons. 

But her uncle curious to know what made her 
pause, asked with a smile : 

“ And what ?” 


150 ^ GEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


“Something I don’t want to tell you,” she an- 
swered vexed with herself for not having been more 
on her guard. 

“ What, secrets? I thought you had no secrets 
from Dad.” 

“And I haven’t,” she said, not able to bear his 
tone ; it seemed to imply he felt hurt that slie should 
keep anything from him, and so she told him all. 

He knew from what she had told him before, that 
the fruit woman had given Lizzie some breakfast, 
and he was touched now to find that the little girl 
had not forgotten the kindness ; that she had been 
saving every cent to pay for the breakfast. 

“You need not have done that, Lizzie,” he said, 
'‘if you had told me, I would have given you money 
for the woman ; this very afternoon, if you like, you 
can take a dollar to her and tell her that your uncle 
sends it to thank her for her kindness to you.” 

“ Oh, Dad ! what shall I ever do for you ? you are 
so good.” 

He smiled, saying: 

“ What you can do forme, little ’un, will be very 
hard for you to do.” 

“I don’t care; I’ll do it; for oh. Dad, when I 
think of you, things don’ t seem to be so hard to do.” 

“Well, then, try not to mind about Maria, and 
act towards her as gently as you can, for Maria’s a 
good woman, Lizzie, only she’s so quick.” 

“ Yes, Dad ; I’ll do that, and when I feel like get- 
ting mad at her. I’ll hold my tongue between my 
teeth, and then I canH speak.” 

“But what about going back to school? it’s the 
only school that’s near, and I feel better not to have 
you far off through the day.” 

Lizzie looked sad ; but her love for her uncle 
made her say at length : 

‘‘ I’ll go back, and if the girls say anything about 
what happened to-day, I won’t answer them,— if I 
can help it.” 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 151 

Mrs. Morrell bad put off her gay dress and was 
now moving about the kitchen with the manner and 
look of a much provoked person. She felt much in- 
clined to return to the room where she had left her 
husband and Lizzie, but she tliongiit she would wait 
and see just how long Bartholomew would talk to the 
child, and take part against his wife. 

When at length Lizzie came into the kitchen, and 
Mrs. Morrell asked her angrily what she wanted, 
Lizzie answered so gently, that her companion could 
not understand it, and she went to her husband to 
find out what it meant. [N'ot that she intended to 
Uvskhim ; she was too vexed for that, but she thought 
lie would tell her of his own accord. 

Lizzie put on her bonnet and went to give the dol- 
lar to the fruit woman. As she approached the stand 
she saw a gentleman approach and speak to the 
vender as if he knew her very well. Lizzie thought 
he was the most elegant looking gentleman she had 
ever seen, and as she reached the stand she heard 
him say: 

I told you, Margaret, I thought I should see 
you again to-day, and buy anotlier of those fine ap- 
ples,” taking an apple and putting down a silver 
half dollar to pay for it. 

“I know you did, sir,” said Margaret, ‘'but as 
you said you hadn’t seen any of the folks yet, I 
thought maybe you’d go to them last night.” 
And she began to look for change for the half dol- 
lar. He stopped her saying. 

“ That price is not too much for me to pay.” 

“ Oh, Mr. INfevin, it’s too good of you, and you 
left me a five dollar bill yesterday, for the apple you 
took ; it makes me ashamed, sir.” 

“ Well, after being away so many months, to 
come upon you as I did, yesterday, it was not much 
to give to such an old and tried servant as you were.” 

At that moment the woman saw Lizzie ; she had 
been too much taken up with the gentleman to no- 


152 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

tice the child before, and she gave a start of surprise 
and pleasure. 

The gentleman turned and looked also. 

‘‘Who is this little girl, Margaret'^” he asked, 
“ you seem to know her.” 

“ I only know her by asking her to have a bit of 
my breakfast one morning. What’s her name, or 
anything else about her, I can’ t say, for she wouldn’t 
tell a thing about herself.” 

And then slie said to Lizzie : 

“ What is it now, dearie ?” 

But Lizzie was stung by the woman’s disclosure of 
her secret ; she had spoken of her as if she had 
been a mere hungry pauper, and so the little girl 
stepped up to the stand with a very proud air, and 
putting down her dollar said, while her eyes flashed 
and her cheeks burned : 

That is to pay you for the bread and coffee you 
gave me that morning : I wasn’t a beggar for I 
could have had breakfast at home if I had wanted 
to.” 

Lizzie turned away leaving the apple woman too 
much surprised to say a word, while the gentleman 
looked very much interested. 

But she had gone only a step or two when she rec- 
ollected that she had not told a word of her uncle’s 
message. She went back. 

‘‘ I forgot to say that my uncle told me to tell you 
he sent you the money to thank you for your kind- 
ness to me.” 

And again she went, but this time so quickly that 
she had actually turned a corner before the woman 
recovered from her astonishment sufficiently to 
speak ; then she said : 

“ I declare sir, she's taken the breath from me.” 

Mr. Nevin laughed. 

“It seems to be a very unusual case, Margaret, 
tliat little black eyed girl coming in such a proud way 
to pay for a breakfast that she says she could have 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 153 

bad at home. I am very much interested. Tell me all 
about it.”' 

“ I have, sir, told you everything I know myself. 
I never set eyes on her before that morning that I 
asked her to have some coffee and bread and but- 
ter.” 

“Ah,” said Mr. Nevin, and he looked in the di- 
rection Lizzie had taken as if he had some thought of 
going after her. The apple woman taking up the bill 
Lizzie had left, went on : 

“ I feel it to be against my conscience so keep this 
money, but what am I to do ?” 

“ There is nothing for you to do, but keep it,” he 
r^plie I “ and if you shoud see the little girl again, 
find out something about her, I am very much in- 
terested in her.” 

Then, with a hasty, but kind adieu, he walked 
away. 

The woman looked after him and shook her head, 
saying to herself : 

“ If what they said about you in the house was 
true, Fm not suprised that you’re interested, and 
under your pleasant, handsome face maybe there’s 
a bit of a heart ache.” 

If this gentleman had a heartache he did not show 
it, but he did show that his mind was not quite m ade 
up, for going directly from the apple stand to the 
Staten Island ferry, he no sooner got there than he 
turned about, and walked very rapidly away from it. 
When he reached Broadway he looked in an absent 
way at the stores till he came to a large handsome 
one which bore the sign : 

“E. Blun, Merchant Tailor.” 

Then his face lighted with pleasant recognition, 
and he went in. Mr. Blun saw him and he hastened 
to meet him his manner showing surprise and pleas- 
ure. 


154 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 

‘‘Mr. Nevin,” he exclaimed, reaching out his hand, 
“when did you get back?” 

Mr. Nevin warmly shaking Mr. Blun’s hand, an- 
swered : 

“ Yesterday.” 

“And you have been stopping in town, since? 
your family of course, are away at this season.” 

‘‘Yes; my family is at Staten Island. While I 
have been away they have given up housekeeping 
and taken to that vagrant way of living, board 
ing.” 

“But now that you have comeback,” said Mr. 
Blun, “ I suppose — ” 

“ Now that I have come back,” interrupted Nevin, 
“ I do not know whether I shall go to them, or not. 
They are living in a hotel, and a hotel is very far 
from being a home. I thought to join them and I 
actually went as far as the Staten Island ferry, but I 
changed my mind when I saw the boat.” 

“Bat will they not expect you ?” said Mr Blun. 

“No ; I have not even hinted that I was coming 
home.” 

“Ah, then!” said Mr. Blun, “you are safe.” 

Then he was silent waiting for Mr. Nevin to take 
up the conversation. 

Mr. Nevin was a wealthy customer of long stand- 
ing ; he was also a most friendly one, putting on no 
airs because of his riches. He said now : 

“ You have a family, Blun. I believe; wife and 
children— how many children ?’’ 

“ Six,” said Mr. Blun surprised : Nevin never had 
spoken to him like that before, and Nevin seeing his 
surprise laughed : 

“ The truth is Blun,” he said, I have been put into 
strange humor, by something I saw a couple of 
hours ago,” and then he told in a few words about 
Lizzie Morrell and the apple woman. 

Mr. Blun listened, thinking that Lizzie Morrell was 
a most undisciplined child, but from the way Nevin 


A GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 155 

spoke of her he felt that Neviii would not agree with 
him, so he said nothing : he did not think fora mom- 
ent, even when Nevin described her appearance, that 
it might be the same little girl who had come to his 
house with the shaker bonnet ; he only thought of 
the dreadful want of discipline in her training to 
take part of the meal of an apple woman when she 
could have had her breakfast at home ; and what 
kind of a man could her uncle be to give her so much 
money to pay for a little bread and coffee— that is, 
if the child did not tell a lie, which Mr. Blun more 
than half thought she must have done. 

Nevin asked : 

Have you daughters, Blun 

‘•Three,” replied Blun. 

“Three,” said Nevin, “ how old are they ?” 

“Ten, six, and four years,” replied Blun wonder- 
ing why his customer should want to know so much 
about his family. 

Nevin went on : 

“Well, Blun, what I saw at the apple stand to- 
day, has made me feel an interest in — children — ” 
he wa% going to say little girls, but he checked him- 
self — “ to feel as if they would be a more pleasant 
and better study than men and women. I do not 
mean the children of the very rich such as I have 
been accustomed to see, with their private teachers 
and all their wishes granted. Your remarks on dis- 
cipline make me think you are not one of those fool- 
ish parents.” 

Mr. Blun’s eyes sparkled ; to hear his discipline 
praised pleased him more than any other praise 
would have done, and he said with more warmth 
than he usually spoke : 

“Mr. Nevin", 1 am a firm believer in discipline 
Dscipline is the producer of manners and morals ; 
it is the basis of every authority, governmental, or 
parental, and I make it the rule of my household. 
The smallest violation of discipline by any one in 


156 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WE AT GAME OF IT. 

my family, or in my employment, is punished im- 
mediately and in just proportion to the offence.” 

“ What a well regulated family you must have, 
Mr. Blun, I think I should like to make its acquaint- 
ance.” 

Mr. Blun was more surprised than he had yet been, 
and he could hardly believe that the elegant and 
wealthy Mr. Nevin whom the first circles of society 
would be glad to welcome had any desire to know 
the family of a tradesman. 

He said in his surprise : 

“You, Mr. Nevin, want to get acquainted with 
my family ?” 

“ Yes ; do I ask too much % and will you give me 
an invitation to take effect as soon as possible % I 
long to see those disciplined children of yours.” 

The phrase, “disciplined children,” caused Mr. 
Blun’s heart to beat again with pride and pleasure, 
and he said : 

“If you would like to take dinner with us this 
evening ; Mr. Nevin ; we dine at six, and as it is my 
custom to have my whole family at table, you will 
see them all just as they are in the home circlh.” 

“Admirable, Mr. Blun, admirable ; I shall be de- 
lighted to take dinner with you, and — ” taking 
out his watch — “in order that I may not dis- 
turb the excellent discipline of your household by 
any unpunctuality, I shall go away immediately.” 


A CHI VALRO OS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 157 


CHAPTER XIY. 

It was part of Mr. Blun’s discipline never to tell 
his wife when he asked anybody to dinner till that 
person actually presented himself ; that plan, being 
in his judgment an excellent one to insure care at all 
times in the household arrangements. Thus, this 
lady was not surprised when 'just before going to 
dinner, her husband looking up from a card which 
Jane had brought to him, said : 

‘•Mrs. Blun, a gentleman, Mr. Nevin, will dine 
with us this evening. He is in the parlor now.’’ 

But she was very much vexed that she did not 
have time to put on a more becoming dress ; then she 
caught sight of the children going down, Helen in 
her shaker bringing up the rear. * Mrs. Blun turned 
to her husband in fright and dismay. 

“Is Helen to wear that horrid bonnet to dinner?” 

“Certainly,” he answered, “a visitor is no ex- 
cuse for violating the discipline of my household. 
Proceed to the dining room, Mrs. Blun.” 

Mrs. Blun proceeded but with her cheeks as red 
as the coral pin at her throat, and her temper roused 
to an exasperating pitch, and when she saw how 
handsome and distinguished looking was the guest, 
and remembered that she had been given no opportun- 
ity to change her dress, and that her eldest daughter 
inust appear before him in that horrible bonnet, she 
was so angry she could hardly speak. 

Mr. Blun introduced his wife, and then he intro- 
duced Helen, saying : 

“The wearing of that bonnet, Mr. Nevin, is an 


158 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 

instance of the justly proportioned punishment 
which I told you I always inflicted for violation of 
discipline in my family. It is also an instance in 
which the punishment is singularly appropriate ; but 
we shall not keep you waiting to hear its details. 
Pass to your place, Helen.” 

One quick mortified look was all that Helen had 
given to the handsome stranger, and then as she 
went to her seat, shame and anger made it impos- 
sible to keep the tears back ; but nobody saw them 
for the children had not yet taken their seats, and 
even if they had, the shaker bonnet would have hid- 
den them. 

‘‘ My twin boys, Walter and Arden,” said Mr. 
Blun, and there seemed to be a sort of pride in his 
voice. 

Mr. Nevin thought he might well be proud of the 
handsome, manly looking little fellows, especially 
Walter. Susie came next, a bright looking little 
girl, but Lulu who came after, was so pretty and 
winning that Mr. Nevin wanted to take her in his 
arms, only he did not know how such an action 
might be regarded by this master of discipline. 

Last of all came the toddling, two year old Harry, 
held up in Catharine’s arms to see the gentleman, 
and this time regardless of his host’s discipline, 
Nevin stooped forward and kissed him. 

All took their seats and the dinner began in the 
solemn silence that marked every meal of the Blun 
family ; even the guest feared at first to break it, then 
he smiled to himself and set out to make everybody 
talk : Mr. Blun, Mrs. Blun, and even all the little 
Bluns under his management found themselves say- 
ing something a good deal to their own surprise. 

The little girl in the queer looking bonnet wns 
often spoken to by the guest, but she always answered 
without lifting her head so that he could see no more 
of lier face than the one brief look she had given 
him at first. 


A CHI VALRO US D3ED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 159 

Walter sitting next to Helen noticed bow her 
voice trembled when she spoke ; he looked mis- 
chievously under her bonnet, and saw tears rolling 
down her cheeks and actually falling into her plate ; 
she was afraid to wipe them away lest her father 
should see her do so. 

The little fellow’s heart was touched. 

‘‘She’s crying because she has to wear that aw- 
ful hat,” he thouglit, and just at that moment Jane 
reaching between him and Helen for a tureen of 
gravy, there came to him all at once the thought 
that here was an opportunity to do something which 
might help his sister. So, just as Jane was lifting 
the tureen carefully over Helen’s head. Walter- 
knocked against Jane and gravy and dish fell on 
Helen’s shaker almost covering it with gravy, and the 
gravy streamed from it in rich brown currents on 
the table cloth while the dish went to the floor. 

The gravy was hot but the closeness of the straw 
in the shaker kept it from going through to Helen’s 
head or face. 

There was immediate and violent consternation, 
Helen having jumped up with a scream, at the same 
time taking off the shaker and in so doing covering 
her hands and part of her dress with gravy. Wal- 
ter had sprung to his feet looking dreadfully fright- 
ened ; he hardly thought it would turn out just that 
way. Jane was angrily protesting that it was not 
lier fault, that Walter had knocked against her arm ; 
Mrs. Blun and Catharine were much distressed, Ar- 
den, Susie, Lulu, and even Harry were puzzled to 
know what had liappened. The guest looked 
amused, and Mr. Blun horrifled. His liorror would 
notlet himsx>eak till Jane raised her voice, and Helen, 
not knowing but that her father would put the whole 
blame on her began to sob. Then Mr Blun said very 
sternly : 

“ Silence !” 

And everybody became as still as the grave. 


160 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


“Are you to blame Walter, for what has hap- 
pened he asked in the same stern voice. 

“I guess so, papa ; I knocked against Jane.” 

“ W hy did you knock against Jane 

Perhaps it was the kind, earnest, encouraging look 
which Mr. Nevin gave the little fellow that made him 
feel brave enough to tell the whole truth, for he kept 
looking at Mr. Nevin while he said : 

“ I knocked against Jane because I wanted her to 
spill the gravy on Helen’s hat, so Helen wouldn’t 
have to wear it any more.” 

“ Go to your room, sir,’’ said Mr. Blun, “I shall 
assign your punishment later, and you, Helen, go 
also to your room ; your dinner shall be sent to 
you.” 

Then he darted a look at Mrs. Blun to let her know 
that she was to blame for what had happened ; but 
Mrs. Blun did not seem to care much. She had made 
up her mind to show the guest that she had some- 
thing to do with the management of the children ; so 
she said to her husband : 

“ Helen has not done anything to be punished ; 
why do you send her from the table ?” 

Mr. Nevin had been thinking the same thing, and 
he smiled approvingly on Mrs. Blun, but Mr. Blun 
replied : 

“ Helen has violated the discipline of the table by 
jumping up and screaming ; she should have kept 
her seat and been silent.” 

“ And let herself be burned?” asked Mrs. Blun. 
Her husband made no answer, and Mr. Nevin was so 
engaged in watching the two children as they left 
the room, that he did not hear her. 

Nevin pitied the Blun children, and he pitied Mrs. 
Blun. He could see how unhappy they all were 
made by Mr. Blun’s “ discipline.” If it were not for 
the evidences of unhappiness that he saw, lie would 
have thought the “discipline” very amusing, and 
would have laughed heartily at it, but the thought 


A GEIVALROCrS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 161 

of little cowed Helen made him sad. How different 
from her was the spirited little girl he had met that 
morning ; and she did not seem to be the child of 
parents in the comfortable circumstances of the 
Bliins. 

When he found at the close of the dinner that it 
was the rule of the house for the children to go at 
once to bed, he could not help saying : 

“Let them stay up a little while as a favor to me, 
Mr. Blun ; I haven’t really got to know them yet, and 
might I ask as another favor to have the two brought 
back who were sent from the table ? Put off their 
l)unisbment till I go away.” 

Mr. Blun could not very well refuse, for Mr. Nevin 
beside being his guest was also an excellent cus- 
tomer. 

So the whole family gathered in the parlor to the 
great astonishment of Helen and Walter at this ex- 
traordinary departure from their father’s rules ; but 
they were also very much delighted. 

Then, Mr. Nevin, by some wonderful way that he 
had, gathered all the children about him, and every 
one of them wanted to talk to him at once. 

Mrs. Blun sat watching them as much surprised as 
were the children themselves at such utter violation 
of the rules of the household. She had never heard 
her husband speak of Mr. Nevin, so she did not 
know who he was, but from the extraordinary privi- 
leges granted to him, she knew he must be a person 
of considerable importance. 

Mr. Blun was also watching his guest and his 
children, hardly knowing whether to be pleased or 
angrj^. He ought to have been pleased for it would 
have been hard to find a brighter, handsomer, hap- 
pier group of children, and when Mr. Nevin went to 
the piano and played lively, ringing airs, their de- 
light was unbounded. They broke into song, sing- 
ing tra la la to the air when they did not know the 
words and led by Mr. Nevin’s rich voice, the effect 
was quite inspiring. 


162 ^ GHIVALR 0 US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 


The servants hearing it wondered what had hap- 
pened. 

The children quite forgot their father’s presence, a 
good deal to his annoyance, for what would become 
of his“discipline” if they should lose their fear of him, 
and at length he could hardly help showing that he 
was uneasy. But at that moment Mr. Nevin stop- 
ped playing and turned to Mrs. Blun.” 

Forgive my monopoly of the piano : I did it just 
to start these little people to singing. But now, Mrs. 
Blun, give us the pleasure of hearing you.” 

Mrs. Blun smiled and said : 

Since my marriage I have so rarely touched the 
piano that I am quite out of practice.” 

‘‘What a pity,” answered Nevin, feeling it hard 
to keep from showing just what he thought of such 
neglect. 

“But your daughter has begun her lessons,” he 
went on turning to Helen who was standing be- 
side him. Helen looked delighted enough to be taken 
for one of the very happiest little girls in the world. 

Mr. Blun began to speak before his wife could 
answer. 

“No; I desire my children to be entirely demo- 
cratic in their tastes. I would have my children 
so brought up, Mr. Nevin, that they will never for- 
get their father is one of the common people.” 

Mr. Nevin could not help saying : 

“I think, Mr. Blun, you are one of a very uncom- 
mon people.” 

But Mr. Blun without noticing his guest’s remark, 
went on : 

“ It is for the reason that T desire my children to 
be democratic in every way that I send Helen to a 
public school, and next autumn Walter and Arden 
shall go to a public school.” 

“But while giving to your children such a demo- 
cratic education, surely, a knowledge of music 
would not hurt them ; the refining infiuence that 


A cm VALRO US DEED, A ND WHA T GAME OF IT. 163 

comes from music makes up for any little leaning 
it may chance to give to aristocracy.” said ^evin. 

Mr. Blun shook his head. 

“It is hard tor you, Mr. Nevin, who are an ar- 
istocrat by birth, breeding and association, to enter 
into my feelings on this subject. I come from poor 
parents who could give me nothing but an education, 
and to build up the business wliich I now have, re- 
quired the utmost economy and thrift on my part. 
At present it gives me enoiigli to keep my family as 
you see them, and while I deny them nothing that 
is necessary to their state of life T am careful at the 
same time to discipline them in habits of economy, 
regularity and order.’’ 

Mrs. Blun had been wondering that he was so long 
in using his favorite word. 

“Then, surely, a knowledge of music is due to 
their state of life,” said Nevin pleasantly, and 
though lie was not looking at Helen, he felt how 
anxiously she waited for her father’s answer ; but 
his answer was : 

“ When my children finish their common school 
education, and an education which shall fit them for 
some useful trade, they may turn their attention to 
music if they desire; then their characters will be 
formed and it cannot hurt the family discipline.” 

Mrs. Blun smiled ; she had felt sure her husband 
would never get througli that sentence without 
bringing in his “ discipline.” 

Mr. Nevin, for the sake of the wistful little creat- 
ure beside him, made up his mind to try again ; 

“ But think of the happiness music makes in the 
home circle,” he said, “ you are keeping that from 
your family, Mr. Blun.” 

Mr Blun looked over at his smiling, delighte.l 
wife — she was delighted that her husband’s hated 
discipline was meeting with disapproval, most po- 
litely spoken disapproval it is true, but disapproval 
for all that as anybody could see who looked at and 


164 ^ GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


listened to Mr. ISTevin, and it nettled the host. He 
made up his mind to sting his wife at the same time 
that he answered his guest, so he said, still looking 
at Mrs. Blun : 

Mrs. Blun does not think as you do, Mr. Nevin, 
or she never would have neglected the happiness of 
her home circle by neglecting her music ever since 
her marriage.” 

And Mr. Nevin, seeing the color rise in Mrs. Blun’s 
face looked at his watch and rose to go. 

I think,” he said, giving one hand to Helen, and 
letting Walter and Arden take the other, that I 
shall go to Staten Island after all, to night. I shall 
be in time for the last boat. Good bye, little folk.” 
Kissing them all, and tossing baby Harry whom he 
took from Catharine’s arms, almost to the ceiling. 
He caught him so dexterously that Walter and Ar- 
den shouted with admiration. 

Lulu wanted another “ dood bye,” and he lifted 
her and let her pat his cheek. 

“1 like ’oo,” she lisped, ‘‘’oo don’t let papa be 
toss ; will ’oo turn aden ?” 

“ If your papa will invite me,” he said laughing, 
and then he put her down and took a polite leave of 
Mrs. Blun. 

Mr. Blun went to the door with him and there 
ISTevin said : 

“You liave done more for me, Blun, than you 
think. You have given to me an aim in life — at 
least your children have done it, and there is but 
one thing to make me still more satisfied ; one wish 
that you can gratify.” 

“ What is that?” asked Mr. Blun, with some un- 
easiness ; he was afraid it might be to let Helen take 
music lessons. 

But Nevin said : 

“ To excuse from further punishment the two chil- 
dren you sent from the table.” 

Mr. Blun felt better ; certainly, the favor asked 


A 0BIVALR0V8 DEER, AND ^^HAf GAME OF IT. 165 


was a hard one to grant, but this was not so bad as 
to have to go quite against his principles as would 
have been the case had he let Helen take music les- 
sons. 

“ I can’t refuse you, Mr. Nevin, but it will be a 
great violation of my discipline.” 

Nevin laughed. 

Call it an exception, not a violation he said, 
“ don’t you know there are exceptions to all rules, 
and sometimes the exceptions are the better part. 
Good night.” 

He was down the steps and some distance up the 
street softly whistling an air from one of the operas 
before Mr. Blun seemed to make up his mind to close 
the door. 


166 ^ CEIV ALBOVS DEED, AND WEAT CAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER XV. 

Mr. Xevin reached the ferry in time for the last 
boat to Staten Island, and when he reached this 
beautiful spot he was so charmed with the scenery, 
that he walked very slowly to the hotel. As he drew 
near, he heard the gay strains of a band, and a mo- 
ment later he saw that the parlors were brilliantly 
lighted, and that ladies and gentlemen were dancing. 
He knew then that aball, or ‘‘ hop” was in progress, 
and it gave him a feeling of disgust. 

He walked by the open windows where some of 
the servants were standing watching the dancers, 
and as he looked sharply within, an expression of 
relief came into his face ; it was evident that he 
recognized none of the merry makers. 

He turned back to the main entrance where he 
stood for a moment as if he did not know quite what 
to do ; then, tempted by the beauty of the night, he 
turned away and strolled down to where he saw the 
water gleaming in the moonlight. A path bordered 
by shrubs wound along the water s edge for a half 
mile or more, and along this path Nevin slowly 
walked giving himself up to the thoughts caused by 
the strange incidents of the day. He was so taken 
up with these reflections he did not notice that he 
was approaching a lady .and gentleman who stood 
with their backs to him looking out at the water. 

The lady was dressed in white ; even her head was 
covered with a sort of loose white hood ; it was so 
loose that every motion she made put it out of ^^lace, 
and at length it fell off showing a mass of Ilow 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 167 

hair. Just as the hood dropped from her head, Nevin 
saw her and her companion, and they hearing his 
footsteps, turned and saw him. The gentleman ex- 
claimed in surprise, and the lady with a cry of de- 
light sprang forward and threw her arms round Nev- 
in’ s neck. 

“ Egbert,” she said, while he folded his arms about 
her and kissed her ; then he held her a little apart 
from him and looked at her. 

‘'Am I better, or worse looking?” she asked 
laughing. 

“ Better,” he said, and then he let her go so that 
he could shake hands with her companion, saying 
as he did so : 

“ I have known my own mind so little for the past 
few months that I was not sure I should come back 
to New York even after I had secured my passage 
on the Hamburg steamer. That is the reason I did 
not write to announce my return.” 

“ Oh, that is no more than we have learned to ex- 
pect laughed Mr. Ingoldsby. “Knowing how 
eccentric you are, we make all allowances for 
you.” 

“ It were better that you diA not make so many. 
I should not then so easily leave to others what per- 
haps I ought to do myself.” 

Mr. Ingoldsby changed the subject by saying : 

“ You must have sailed from Hamburg as soon as 
you received Cornelia’s letter saying that we were 
coming down here. Father prefers this place : its 
nearness to the city suits him, and it suits me also. 
But let us go to the hotel and see about rooms for 
you ; it had better be done at once the guests are 
so numerous.” 

“ Then, you go Edwin, and attend to it ; I’ll re- 
main here and talk to Cornelia,” and drawing the 
young lady’s arm through his own, the began to walk 
along the little path, while Mr. Ingoldsby went back 
to the hotel. 


168 ^ OHivALRO ns nmn, and what game of it. 


1 can hardly believe that you are here, Egbert,” 
she said, leaning fondly upon his arm, ‘‘from your 
letters it seemed sometimes as if you would never 
come back.” 

“So it often seemed to myself,” he answered, 
“but since I have returned, little incidents have oc- 
curred that have made me glad for coming back.” 

Then he told her what had taken place at Margaret 
Anthon’s fruit stand. 

“ How strange,” said Miss Ingoldsby, “ that you 
should come across Margaret ; she left us to take 
care of her sick sister.” 

“ Yes, I know she did ; but she told me that her 
sister died, and she is quite alone now.” 

“ And the little girl you saw,” went on the young 
lady, you say she had large black eyes ?” 

“Yes, positive; but why do you ask? did you 
think it might be some one you know ?” 

“Yes— no; ” answered Miss Ingoldsby, hardly 
knowing which to say lest she might break her prom- 
ise to Edwin ; then, so that Egbert would not notice 
how strangely she answered, she told how the ac- 
cident caused by their carriage, had brought a little 
girl having big hazel eyes to her notice ; but she did 
not speak of a previous acquaintance. 

When she had finished Egbert told about his visit 
to the Blun family, pouring out in full his pity for 
Helen. 

“ She is a starved child, Cornelia : I mean starved 
in soul and mind, having such parents. I confess 
that I felt so much anger and disgust that politeness 
alone kept me from telling Mr. Blun he was a tyrant 
with his discipline, and Mrs. Blun that she ought to 
be ashamed of her neglect to make home happy for 
her children.” 

Cornelia was full of sympathy. 

“I knew the case would touch your heart,” 
Nevin went on, “ and that is why I came over here 
to-night rather than to wait even till to-morrow. 


A Gill VALROCS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF II. 169 

I want you to do something for this poor dis- 
ciplined little girl.” 

'‘Why, what can I do, Egbert?” stopping short 
in her walk and making him do the same, while she 
looked up at him wondering : 

‘‘ When you are in the city you always have one 
or more little girls whom you help in some way, do 
you not ? In your letters to me you have spoken of 
some of them.” 

“ Yes ; but Egbert, those were the children of 
poor parents. I used to teach them to sew, and some- 
times 1 read to them. With this Helen Blun that 
you tell me about, it is very different ; she is the 
child of parents that are somewhat rich.” 

“ All the more need then, for you to do something 
for her. I don’t mean teaching her to sew, bur, 
you will know when you see her.” 

Why, Egbert, do you mean that I should visit 
these people ; this family of your tailor ?” 

Egbert lost his patience. 

Why, Cornelia, is the family of my tailor, be- 
cause it is the family of my tailor, not worthy of a 
visit from you ? Must we go to see only those people 
who do not have to work for a living, or who chance 
to have as much money as we have ? Am T obliged 
to remind you that the gentleman who is your fa- 
ther and my stepfather, was a poor man, much 
poorer than the family of my tailor, when our 
mother married him. Oh, Cornelia, out upon such 
foolish pride.” 

“But, listen a moment, Egbert; you are so ad- 
mired and courted you can afford not to care what 
societ}^ says abont the things you do. I cannot do 
so. If I go to see Mrs. Blun she will expect to come 
to see me in return, and when it becomes known that 
I associate with the wife of a tailor our set will drop 
me from its social lists ; then too, both father and 
Edwin will be very angry if I do such a thing.” 

Egbert said something between his teeth which 


170 ^ GEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


Cornelia did not catch ; then he began so angrily she 
could hardly keep from crying : 

“ Am I not able to protect you from their anger? 
The sham of the thing you call society drove me to 
Europe a year ago ; my own aimless life has driven 
me back again. To-day, the children I met seemed 
to renew my old trust in the good there is in human 
nature, and to make me eager to do my part in draw- 
ing out that good. But it is with children 1 shall 
work, not men and women, and the Blun family of 
little ones, especially that cruelly ‘disciplined’ Helen, 
seemed to afford me a grand chance. My heart at 
once turned to you, knowing your kind nature, as 
the only one of our family who would help me. But 
how am I met when I tell you my feelings ? by the 
same talk that makes society the hateful thing it is. 
Oh, my sister ! I thought better things of you.” 

He dropped her arm and turned away. Tears were 
rolling down her cheeks. 

“Don’t blame me, Egbert,” she said, ‘‘it is the 
fault of my training ; but I shall do what you wish. 
1 shall go to see Mrs. Blun any day you will take me 
there.” 

‘'Very well,” he said in a tone that showed he 
had forgiven her. 

‘* But it seems strange,” she went on after a 
moment’s silence, “ your great interest in these 
children.” 

A vexed look came into his face. 

“ Don’t you understand, Cornelia, — have I not ex- 
plained clearly why I feel this interest ?” 

B(ffore she had time to reply Edwin joined them 
telling he had engaged rooms, and that his father 
was impatient to see Egbert. 

While the three walked back to the hotel, Miss 
Tngoldsby thought more and more about Nanny 
Tavish ; how she wished it were Nanny that Egbert 
had seen at old Margaret’s fruit stand, and how she 
wished that she herself was not bound by that prom- 


A cm VALBO VS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 171 

ise to Edwin. She fell very much like asking Edwin 
to release her from it, but she knew him too well to 
think he would do so. 

The meeting between Mr. Ingoldsby and his step- 
son was, on the part of the old gentleman, gush- 
ingly warm, on the part of Egbert, politely kind. 
Anybody could see that Mr. Ingoldsby was proud 
that he was the stepfatiier of the handsome Mr. Ne- 
vin, and anyone could see that Mr. Nevin was not at 
all proud that he was the step-son of Mr. Ingoldsby. 

Mr. Ingoldsby was always talking of his “blue 
blood,” and the blue blooded family he had come 
from; Mr. Nevin took delight in saying there was 
no blue blood in his veins, and that he did not come 
from a blue-blooded family. 

Edwin Ingoldsby, Egbert’s half brother, was 
twenty-three years old, just twelve years younger 
than Egbert, and Cornelia was nineteen years old. 
Edwin, though he was not given to boasting as his 
father was, showed even when he was a boy, how 
like he was to his father in tastes and disposition, 
and for that reason Egbert found it hard to care more 
for him than he did for old Mr. Ingoldsby. For Cor- 
nelia, who had not seen even one summer when her 
mother died, he had, being so much older, not alone 
the affection of a brother, but somewhat that of a 
father. It was due to his training that she wanted 
to do good even while she enjoyed the pleasures of 
society more than Egbert cared to have her. But 
when he was away from home it was hard for her to 
act as he wished. 

“How well you look, Egbert,” said Mr. Ingoldsby, 
“and you have been traveling all th ' time, at least 
your letters to Cornelia, the only one you wrote to, 
were always dated from a different place.” 

“ Yes ; 1 was going about in search of rest.” 

“ And you had to come home to find it, my boy : 
that’s a good sign, a sign that the heart is all right 
when one turns to home for rest, and such a home 


172 ^ CEtVALRO US DEED, AND WUA T CAME OE If. 


as yours is, my dear fellow, one in which no elements 
of the common, or vulgar enter, only the pure blue 
blood.” 

Egbert could not help saying wickedly : 

“ Do you mean to say there are no elements of the 
common or vulgar in this great hotel where you have 
made your home ? that everybody here comes from 
a blue-blooded stock like your illustrious self?” 

The old gentleman answered crossly : “ Pshaw ! 
Egbert : you try not to understand me ; I mean the 
bosom of your family.” 

Egbert lauglied, and then seeing that his step fa- 
ther was still vexed, he said he was tired, and would 
retire. 

Edwin accompanied him to his rooms, staying with 
him some time ; then he went to his sister’s private 
X)arlor where he found her waiting for him. 

What has Egbert been saying to you ?” she 
asked. 

‘‘Nothing much ; he is too tired to know, or to 
show whether he is in his old odd frame of mind, or 
not. I was not able to get much from him.” 

“ Well ; this is what he said to me,” said Cornelia, 
telling what had passed between her and Egbert, 
and then she added : 

“ Since he shows such an interest in children, why 
may I not tell him about that dear little creature, 
Nanny Tavish ? I feel as if he ought at least to see 
her.” 

“ Cornelia, if you break in the least the promise 
you made me about that Tavish child, that instant 
I shall cease to have any affection for you, and I 
shall go away from home.” 

Cornelia started, and said in dismay : 

. “Oh, Edwin ! I shall not then ; I shall keep my 
promise — but, why must not Egbert see her? if you 
would only tell me what it all means ?” 

“Does not your own sense tell you? Some acci- 
dent has made this Tavish child look like Egbert • 


A GBIVALRO US DEtJD, AND WUA T GAME OF IT. I73 


Egbert would not be long in seeing that, and with his 
odd way of thinking and of doing things, he might 
actually adopt this child, and give to her our portion 
of his wealth— yours and mine, I mean. Do you 
understand now 

She nodded her head but very slowly, for she was 
not sure that she did understand ; what he said in 
explanation was very strange. How could Egbert 
give to anybody what belonged to them, but she 
knew it would be no use to ask anything more. 
Her brother said all at once : 

“ When does Mrs. Tavish bring the clothes again V 

“To-morrow afternoon.” 

“ Will she have the child with her 

“Yes; don’t you remember to-morrow will be 
the day I asked her to bring her.” 

“ Well ; you will keep your promise — you will 
be only civil to this woman and her child when they 
come ?” 

“Yes :” 

He left her then with an affectionate good night, and 
as he went down to the grounds to enjoy a stroll 
and a cigar, he made up his mind that Egbert should 
accompany liim to the city on the next afternoon, 
and that Cornelia’s visit to the family of the mer- 
chant tailor should be put off as long as possible. 


174 ^ GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER XYI. 

It seemed to Nanny Tavish on the afternoon of 
Examination day as if the measure of her joy were 
full ; her darling mother was so proud and so happy 
that Nanny had done well, and in addition to that 
she had the pleasure of the next day’s trip to Staten 
Island to look forward to ; every time she thought 
of that it seemed to make her glow, and when she 
found that her mother would be able to go in the 
morning instead of the afternoon she was still more 
delighted : it brought the pleasure of seeing that 
lovely and kind Miss Ingoldsby much nearer. 

When the next morning came bright and balmy, 
and Nanny found herself again in the grounds of the 
hotel, all the fancies which had grown out of her 
former visit came back to her. She walked by her 
mother’s side smiling and thoughtful ; she was so 
quiet that Mrs. Tavish looked at her more than once. 

When they reached Miss Ingoldsby’ s rooms. Miss 
Ingoldsby’ s maid opened to Mrs. Tavish’ s knock, 
but the young lady was also present. She had not 
expected Mrs. Tavish till the afternoon, and she in- 
tended not to be seen then ; now, however, she was 
caught, and as she could not bear to be the cause of 
pain, or disappointment to any one, much less to 
the smiling, eager child who showed in every feat- 
ure her delight at the meeting, she could not help 
feeling very much vexed. She knew the hopes she 
must have raised in Nanny’s heart by the warm 
way she had asked Nanny’s mother to bring her, 


A CHIVA LRO US DEED, AND WE A T GAME OF IT. I75 

and now, to have to keep her promise to Edwin 
seemed too bad. 

She smiled pleasantly, however, and going tow- 
ard them she bade them a kindly good morning : 
then, having told her maid to give them chairs, she 
said to Mrs. Tavish ; 

‘‘ I did not expect you till this afternoon.” 

Mrs. Tavish replied : 

“ I have less work this week ; one family I washed 
for has moved away, so I was able to finish your 
clothes yesterday.” 

Miss Ingoldsby felt as if she could not trust her- 
self longer in sight of Nanny ; the child seemed to 
be looking at her with Egbert’s eyes, so she said hur- 
riedly : 

“ My maid will attend to you, Mrs. Tavish ; good 
morning.” 

She passed to an inner room shutting the door 
tightly behind her. 

The maid counted the clothes, and asked Mrs. Tav- 
ish how much money was due her ; then she went 
to the inner room, and after a moment came back 
with the amount and gave it to Mrs. Tavish. 

Mrs. Tavish took up her empty basket and turned 
to go ; but Nanny sat as if she were fastened to the 
chair. Her mother touched her and said : 

‘‘Come, Nanny.'’ 

The child stood up but slowly, and with such a 
changed look, that even the maid wondered what had 
happened to the little girl to send from her face every 
trace of the smiling happy look she had when she 
came in. 

She followed her mother out, not saying a word, 
and with a feeling that the beauty had gone out of 
everything. She did not even care to look about her ; 
but just as they got to the foot of the broad steps 
in front of the hotel, the sound of voices behind her 
caused her to look back. 

She saw Mr. Edwin Ingoldsby and another gentle- 


176 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

man ; they were just coming out of one of the public 
parlors. At any other time the appearance of the 
stranger would have startled and delighted Nanny, 
for it was so like what she had fancied the myster- 
ious Egbert to be ; now, however, her disappoint- 
ment caused the little romance she had made about 
him to seem hateful. She was so angry with all 
the Ingoldsbys that she did not care to know even if 
the stranger belonged to the family. 

Edwin had caught sight of the child’s upturned 
face, and without showing in any way that he knew 
her, he took his companions arm and drew him back 
quickly to the parlor. 

Mrs. Tavish kept on her way and Edwin thought 
it was well that the washerwoman and her daughter 
had not lingered on their way through the hall. Had 
they done sf), all his care to keep Egbert from seeing 
them would have been useless, and then what he 
feared, might have happened. 

How all at once the whole of her little world had 
changed to Nanny Tavish ; she had expected so 
much from that second visit to Staten Island, in the 
way of kindness and interest from Miss Ingoldsby 
that her disappointment was very bitter. She no 
longer thought Miss Ingoldsby beautiful ; indeed, 
she was fast growing to think her very ugly, and 
she felt as if she should never want to see Staten 
Island again. Even the beautiful road was now long 
and tiresome, and she was glad when they arrived 
at the little house where passengers waited for the 
boat, so that she could sit down. 

All this time her mother had been silent partly 
because she thought it better to let Nanny follow 
the bent of her own thoughts awhile, and partly be- 
cause she herself wanted to think. 

For Nanny's sake she also felt keenly the treat- 
ment of Miss Ingoldsby, but for her own sake she 
was glad of it ; it took away from her a great, se- 
cret fear, and were it not for Nanny’s evident dejec- 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 177 


tion she would have gone on her way rejoicing. 

As they went into the little boat house Mrs. Tav- 
ish pressed Nanny to her and whispered : 

“ My darling ; I feel this disappointment for your 
sake, but you must try and bear it like a biave 
girl.” 

That tenderness went to Nanny’s soul ; she 
pressed her face against her mother’s bosom and let 
her quiet tears flow as much as they would. Then, 
while she wept, she thought how good it was to 
have such a kind, fond mother, and to imagine how 
she should feel if her mother were to die. How lit- 
tle all the kindness and interest of the Ingoldsbys 
would make up for that loss. 

She dried her eyes, looked up at her mother with 
a smile, and made up her mind not to think of the 
Ingoldsbys any more. But this was not so easy for 
the disappointment had taken the relish out of every- 
thing, and it gave to her manner an unusual quiet 
that made Mrs. Tavish anxious. 

It was the child’s first real experience of the un- 
trustworthiness of human nature. Nanny had 
thought Miss Ingoldsby almost an angel. It was a 
great disappointment to have to admit that she did 
not even mean what she said. 

Mrs. Tavish wondered that her little daughter 
spoke so little ; she had expected to be asked for 
explanations, and she had been thinking wliat she 
should say. 

Fondly as Mrs. Tavish loved her child, and well 
as she understood her, she did not know tliat in this 
case the disappointment w^as too sharp for words ; 
and not till Monday morning when Nanny was going 
to school did her mother feel as if the little girl were 
quite herself. 

That day before Nanny returned from school, Mrs. 
Tavish received a note from Mr. Edwin Ingoldsby 
saying that he and his father and sister were going 
to Newport to stay till the autumn, after which they 


178 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WE A T CAME OF IT. 

would resume house-keeping ; that plan made Mrs. 
Tavish’s services no longer necessary, but tlie note 
contained a bill equal in amount to the sum she 
would have earned b}^- working for them a full month 
longer. 

She felt at once relieved and dismayed ; relieved 
that this note removed her secret fear, but dismayed 
because of the loss of the work she needed so sorely. 


A CmVALRO US DEED, AND WEAT CAME OF IT, 179 


CHAPTER XVIL 

An hour after Edwin Ingoldsby had caught that 
unexpected sight of Mrs. Tavisli and her little daugh- 
ter, he made up his mind to take his family without 
delay to Newport 

Cornelia was too amiable not to be satisfied with 
the arrangement ; his father also was satisfied, but 
then he had been told privately why Edwin desired 
the change. 

Egbert looked cross. 

“Is there not enough of gay life here he asked. 

“Too much,” Edwin replied, “it is to have a 
more quiet life that I want you all to go to New- 
port. I shall secure a cottage where we shall have 
home life, not hotel life.” 

Egbert shrugged his shoulders. 

“ If you are going to ask society people to your 
cottage, I see little prospect of quiet, or of home 
life.” 

“We shall not ask anybody, you odd fellow ; 
you shall have everything your own way. On Mon- 
day I shall secure the cottage, and we can go to 
Newport on Tuesday.” 

Edwin was successful in securing a cottage, and 
when he informed Cornelia they could leave immedi- 
ately, she shook her head. 

“I have promised Egbert to go with him on Mon- 
day to see that Blun familj^ I told you about,” she 
said. “ He is quite anxious to have me call.” 

Edwin looked vexed, and his sister resumed : 

“ Egbert and I can go in the morning to see these 


180 ^ GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 

Bluns, and return in time to go in the evening.’’ 

“Nonsense,” said Edwin, “it was to get you 
away so that you could not see tliese Bluns at all, 
that I secured the cottage so quickly ; now, however, 
all my haste is in vain.” 

“It would be of no avail anyway except to post- 
pone my seeing the Bluns,” said Cornelia, “ for 
when Egbert puts his mind to a thing, he is bound 
to accomplish it.” 

“That may be, but at least your immediate visit 
to them would be avoided, and something might 
happen to prevent it altogether. motto is, 

‘keep away the evils that are near; distant ones 
often take care of themselves.’ ” 

“ And will my going to see the Bluns, be an evil f ’ 
she asked with dismay. 

Her brother was angry with himself for having 
said so much and be answered quickly : 

“ I did not mean exactly evil, but I do not see why 
Egbert should force you to become acquainted with 
these low persons. I certainly cannot understand 
the good of such proceedings.” 

“ I tried to tell him all that,” said Cornelia, anx- 
ious to show Edwin how she had endeavored to 
please him, “ but, as I have told you already, it only 
made Egbert angry to think that I cared so much for 
what society would say.” 

“ We shall have to give Egbert his way, I suppose ; 
but when you go to see these people, Cornelia, be 
careful to talk as little as possible,” her brother re- 
plied. 

On Monday when Edwin saw his sister and Egbert 
leave for the city, he gave her a secret look of warn- 
ing, and she, understanding it, smiled. But when 
she was alone with Egbert, she forgot everything 
save Egbert himself, and by the time they arrived 
in New York, Miss Ingoldsby was in a frame of mind 
that vrould have startled her blue-blooded father and 
brother, 


A CHIVALROUS I) BED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 181 

They had been annoyed by Egbert’s refusal to 
take the carriage, saying with mock gravity when 
he was told of the fatigue the journey would cause 
Cornelia, that, that young lady must be alarmingly 
delicate if she could not sometimes ride in an om- 
nibus. 

So an omnibus they took at the corner of one of 
the streets that run into lower Broadway, and rode 
to Mr. Blun’s store. 

Mr. Blun felt complimented by the visit, and he 
so expressed himself, adding that he would accom- 
pany them to his house ; he did not tell them his 
chief reason for doing so was that he would not trust 
Mrs. Blun to receive such visitors alone ; he did not 
know how she would violate his discipline if he were 
not present. 

Mrs. Blun, never dreaming that anytliing would 
happen to bring her husband home at the extraor- 
dinary hour of two o’clock in the afternoon, was deep 
in the delights of a new novel. She had begun it 
just after breakfast intending to read only an hour 
or so, but luncheon time came and she was so inter- 
ested, she could hardly leave it to go to the table ; 
consequently, her morning gown had not been 
changed and her hair was very untidy ; in fact she 
looked very unlike what her husband’s ‘‘ discipline” 
demanded, when he went up to her room to tell her 
that Mr. Nevin and his sister were in the parlor. 

Astonishment kept her from even closing the 
book for a moment after his entrance, and the way 
he pronounced her name sent the blood into her 
face. 

‘‘ What have you been doing, Mrs. Blun, that I 
find you still in your breakfast attire, and where 
are the children ?” 

‘‘ What have I been doing? I have been reading,” 
tossing the book behind her, and standing up, ‘‘and 
the children are with Catharine, of course. Isn’t 
that according to your discipline, Mr. Blun ?” 


182 A GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


“It is not according to my discipline to find 
you in such a dress, and Mr. Nevin and his sister 
are in the parlor.” 

“ What ? that elegant Mr. Nevin and his sister,” 
repeated Mrs. Blun, surprised by the information 
into brief forgetfulness of her mortification and sur- 
prise, “and so soon after his first visit— really, he 
must think we are very stylish people since he 
brings his sister to visit us.” 

“ You are mistaken, Mrs. Blun ; it is precisely be- 
cause we are not stylish people that he brings his 
sister to visit us.” 

“Don’t think for a moment that I meant he 
thought you were stylish, Mr. Blun ;” his wife re- 
torted, “ no one who ever saw you could make such 
a mistake. But he was impressed by your wife, and 
his present visit is due to that. I shall see them as 
soon as I change my dress.” 

She tossed her liead, and was passing on to a ward- 
robe, but her husband placed himself before her. 

“ You shall see them now, Mrs. Blun, just as you 
are.” 

“What ! in my morning dress ? Have you no re- 
gard for the appearance of your wife before these 
strangers ?” 

“ I have the regard which my wife herself has for 
her appearance, when she is too lazy to change her 
morning dress though the morning has passed, till 
visitors come. I hide nothing, Mrs. Blun, from the 
eyes of visitors to this house ; and as you know that 
it is part of my discipline to have you at all times 
set an example of neatness and regularity to your 
children, it is my desire now to show how you have 
thwarted my discijdine in this respect.” 

Mrs. Blun tossed her head again, and laughed. 

“ I think, Elliott, you must have lost your mind.” 

“No, Madame ; I am in perfect possession of my 
senses, and I insist that you shall come to the parlor 
with me, at once, or I shall tell these people that 


A CUIVj\LRO us deed, AND WEAT GAME OF IT. 183 

you were prevented from coming by that disgrace- 
ful negligence of your dress. And I shall describe 
to them your appearance.” 

Mrs. Blun knew that her husband would do ex- 
actly what he said, and thinking that his description 
of her appearance would be worse than it really was, 
she gave one hasty, despairing glance at herself in 
the glass, brushed her hair with her hands, smoothed 
the rumpled folds of her dress, put her collar straight, 
and with a scowl swept down the stairs. 

As they reached the parlor door she became pain- 
fully aware of another defect in her toilet. Owing to 
having worn in her youth shoes too small for her 
feet, she had to wear now, in the house for the sake 
of comfort, slippers too large for her, and that were 
only kept in place by strings : the strings being any 
color, or material most convenient to Mrs. Blun’s 
hand. 

This time the strings happened to be somewhat 
soiled yellow ribbon, and their raveled edges could 
be seen every time Mrs. Blun took a step forward. 

She felt with a sort of chill that one of those yel- 
low strings had become untied, and probably would 
be dangling somewhere in full view, while she would 
have the additional trial of endeavoring to keep the 
slippers on. But there was no opportunity for even 
a hasty adjusting of the loosened string, for Mr. Blun 
had flung the parlor door wide open, and there sat the 
visitors. 

By walking slowly and causing her foot to perform 
a sort of gymnastic feat, backward, Mrs. Blun man- 
aged not to part with t)ie shoe, but knowing the con- 
trast her dress must present to the neat, quiet, taste- 
ful attire of the young lady who rose as she came in, 
she felt ashamed and awkward. 

She hardly knew what she answered to the kindly 
greeting ot Mr. Nevin, or to his introduction of his 
sister, and she did not dare to look at her husband 
lest that might provoke from him some remark which 
would make her feel worse. 


184 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


Mr. Nevin, however, came to her rescue, for while 
he was surprised at, and repelled by her appearance, 
he pitied her embarrassment, and he made haste 
to ask for the children, particularly Helen. 

Being told that she was expected from school in a 
little while he said that he and his sister would 
wait to see her, and then to give the ladies an op- 
portunity to become acquainted, he began to talk to 
Mr. Bliin. 

Miss Ingoldsby put away from her the unpleasant 
impression made by Mrs. Blun, and she was so sim- 
ple and agreeable, that the hostess began to feel 
quite at ease, and in a short time she was telling 
very frankly, how little society she had and how 
her husband would never let her go to any of the 
parties given by the neighbors, but she felt sure he 
would let her go to one given by Mr. Nevin. 

Miss Ingoldsby could hardly refrain from laugh- 
ing both at the idea of her step-brother who hated 
all such frivolities, giving a party, and Mrs. Blun, the 
mother of six children showing all the eagerness of 
a school girl to go to a party. But she also pitied 
this mother of six children, recollecting what Egbert 
had told her of Mr. Blun’ s discipline, and instead of 
laughing, she had such a sympathetic, kindly look, 
that Mrs. Blun forgot everything about herself ex- 
cept that she might be invited to one of Mr. Nevin’s 
parties. 

She even forgot her untied slipper, and making 
a sudden movement with her foot, the slipper 
bounded off, never stopping till it reached a spot 
three feet distant — and making a noise that caused 
everybody to look — where it lay in all the faded 
splendor of its yellow ravelled ribbons, worn, 
crooked heel, and discolored leather. Perhaps that 
which made its owner feel more ashamed than any- 
thing else, was its size ; it seemed large enough to 
have held both of Miss Ingoldsby’ s feet. 

Mrs. Blun wdshed that tlie parlor floor miglit open 
and swallow her, but Mr. Blun after the first in- 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 185 

starit of dumb surprise, rose, picked up the slipper, 
and brought it to his wife. 

‘‘Mrs. Blun, your slipper has rebelled at being 
fastened in such an untidy manner.” 

If a look could have crushed him, his wife’s look 
certainly would have done so, as she almost snatched 
the slipper from him, but what reply she would 
have made was stopped by an uproar made up of 
shrieks, the loud and violent mews of a cat, the 
scuffling of feet, and children’s voices and the up- 
roar seemed to come from the basement hall. 

xMr. Blun straightened himself in order to meet this 
dreadful violation of discipline, and at that moment 
there burst into the parlor a stout, middle aged 
woman who was trying to shake from her ankle a 
large cat ; the cat was dripping from some sticky 
moisture, and each time the woman shook her foot 
the cat’s nails went deeper causing the screams that 
made the chief part of the noise. 

Walter and Arden were following her, both pant- 
ing and shouting : 

“ Stand still and we’ll take her off.” 

But the woman seemed to be as frightened as was 
the poor animal that clung to her, and not thinking 
who was looking at her she fairly danced in her ef- 
forts to get rid of the cat. 

“ She’ll kill me she said, “ and I’ll not stay in 
this house another minute. Oh, those vagabonds of 
boys.” 

Mr. Nevin seemed to be the first to think what to 
do. He took his cane and with it drove off the des- 
perate animal ; it dashed out into the hall. 

The woman was nearly frantic. 

“I’ll leave this very day, Mr. Blun,” she said, 
“it’s what I ought to have done when one of your 
children put the hair in the puddding, and not to 
wait till your boys set the cat on me.” 

“We didn’t papa; we didn’t set the cat on her,” 
said both little fellows together, andWalter went on : 

“We only wanted to give the cat a bath,” 


186 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WE A T CAME OF IT. 


“ Yes ; and they gave the cat a bath in my pan of 
warm starch that I had ready for some clothes left 
over from last week ; and if the starch was boiling 
hot as it miglit have been it would have been all the 
same ; they’d have scalded the poor animal. But 
I’ve had enough of your family, Mr. Blun. I’m sorry 
to intrude on you this way when you have company, 
blit I was just beside myself when that mad creature 
sprang upon me, and I couldn’t get her off, and know- 
ing you were up here, sir, I came up to let you see the 
whole thing for yourself.” 

Mr. Bliin had let her go on talking because he was 
so mortified and angry at having such a scene before 
his visitors after all he had said about his discipline, 
that he did not know what to say, nor could he com- 
mand his voice to say anything. 

When the cook had left the room Mr. Nevin drew 
the two little glowing excited boys to him, and won 
from them a frank account of their mischief. Mr. 
Blun out of respect for his guests was obliged to* 
listen. 

Walter spoke first : 

“ Arden and me was in the yard, Mr.Nevin,” fixing 
his eyes on Kevin’s face, “and the cat was on the 
winder sill of the laundry room—” 

“ She wos stretched on the winder sill,” said Ar- 
den. 

“ And she was awful dirty,” went on Walter. 

“Dirty as mud,” added Arden. 

“ And there was a big pan of white stuff on the 
table right near her, and we just thought it would 
be jolly nice to give her a bath in it.” 

“ Awful jolly nice,” repeated Arden. 

“You see, Mr. Kevin, the stuff looked so white, 
and the cat was so black dirty, and we didn’t think 
it would be any harm because it wasn’t in the kit- 
chen, it was in the laundry, so it wasn’t anything 
cook was making, and there wasn’t nobody in the 
laundry ” 


A CaiVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 187 


There wasn’t nobody in the laundry,” repeated 
Arden. 

‘‘ And the winder was open, and I jumped in and 

took hold of the cat’s tail ” 

No ; you took hold of the cat’s head,” corrected 
Arden. 

‘‘ Oh, yes , I took hold of the cat’s head, and Ar- 
den, he took hold of the cat’s tail, and we soused 
her in the pan jolly nice.” 

Awful jolly nice,” said Arden as if he were en- 
joying it all over again. 

“And then cook, she came in, and she screamed 
at us, and we let the cat go, and the cat was so 
frightened that she just jumped at cook and got on 
lier foot ^ and cook was so mad she wouldn’t wait 
to let us get the cat off ; she just come up here, and 
we come too. That’s it, Mr. Nevin.’" 

“ Yes, Mr. Nevin ; that’s it said Arden. 

“ And we didn’t mean for to do any harm, Mr. 
Nevin,” said Walter, speaking as if he were very 
sorry 

“No ; Mr. Nevin, we didn’t mean for to do any 
harm,’' said Arden. 

“ And we’s sorry now, papa” said Walter turning 
to his stern looking father. 

“ Yes ; we’s both sorry now, papa,” repeated Ar- 
den, also turning to his father. 

“And your father forgives you,’’ said Mr. Nevin 
taking a hand of each of the little fellows and bring- 
ing them to Mr. Blun. 

“ Such an honest confession must win forgiveness. 
I congratulate you, Mr. Blun, on having such manly 
sons, and if it be your discipline that has made them 
so truthful, your discipline cannot be too much 
praised. If you have not already pardoned them let 
me beg you to do so,” holding out a hand of each 
little boy to Mr. Blun. 

That compliment to his discipline caused Mr. Blun 
to feel a throb of very secret pride, and he was soft- 


188 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

ened by it. He took the little outstretched hands in 
his own, and said : 

‘‘I forgive you this time my boys.” 

How thankful they both felt to Mr. Nevin, and 
the moment their father let go their hands, they 
turned to him, Walter saying : 

“ We wouldnH never be naughty, Mr. Nevin, if 
you lived with us.” 

Nevin laughing heartily led them both to Cornelia. 

All this time Mrs. Blun had neither spoken, nor 
moved. She was standing just where she stood when 
the cook came in, and she looked as if she were in a 
dream. 

The way that her husband did everything Mr. 
Nevin asked him to do made her feel as if she could 
not be quite awake. She never had known him to let 
a fault go without punishment before. 

Just then she heard Helen’s voice in the basement 
hall calling Jane. Helen had just come home from 
school, and as usual she was seeking Jane to coax 
her for some cake, or preserves to eat with the bread 
and milk. 

Jane was in the kitchen listening to the indignant 
cook’s account of what had taken place up stairs, 
and before she could answer Helen, Mr. Blun stepped 
to the open parlor door and called his daughter. 

Helen was frightened at the sound of his voice ; 
she had not dreamed that he could be in the house 
and as she went up to him she felt thankful that she 
did not have time to coax Jane for something for- 
bidden ; of course her father would have heard that 
also. 

She had not yet taken off her bonnet — the same 
somewhat shabby one that Lizzie Morrell had taunted 
her about— and as she came timidly into the room 
her cheeks flushed, and for the moment not seeing 
any one but her father, she was a touching picture 
of childish shyness and beauty. 

Miss Ingoldsby was won at once ; and when she 


A CitIVALnoVS DEEi), AND Vl^ NAT GAME OF IT. 189 

was introduced to Helen she threw her arms around 
her and kissed her warmly. 

Then Mr. Nevin began to tell some of his amusing 
stories, and everybody seemed to forget the slipper, 
and the cook and the cat. 

After a little he contrived to make an opportunity 
for Cornelia and Helen to talk apart, and Cornelfa 
easily won the little girl to speak of her school, her les- 
sons, and her teacher ; of her class mates she said 
little though the young lady even asked Helen the 
names of some of them. 

Miss Ingoldsby wanted to find out from the names 
whether the children were of American, or foreign 
born parents, and Helen told the name of nearly 
every girl in the class except Nanny Tavish and Liz- 
zie Morrell. She disliked both Lizzie and Nanny 
so much she would not even mention them. 

Miss Ingoldsby conceived a warm interest in Helen, 
but it was a different kind of interest from that she 
felt in Nanny Tavish — Nanny bearing such a strong 
resemblance to Egbert, seemed nearer to Miss In- 
goldsby than any other strange little girl could ever 
be. 

Helen was delighted with her new acquaintance be- 
cause of her rich dress and elegant manners, and the 
notice of such a fine lady greatly flattered Helen’s 
vanity. 

Mr. Nevin said at the close of the visit: 

“ When we come back from Newport, my sister 
and I shall give ourselves the pleasure of seeing your 
family often, Mr. Blun. We mean to take a 
house somewhere up town here, and then all of you 
must come and see us.” 

Mrs. Blun’s heart gave a bound of delight. Here 
was a prospect of an invitation to one of Mr. Nevin’s 
parties. Her delight made her bold enough to say : 

“ Oh, how nice that will be, and I shall be impa- 
tient for you to return. I suppose you will give a 
party early in the season, Mr. Nevin : I hope you 


190 • ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

will, for I do so want to get into society. My hus- 
band never lets me go to any parties, but he thinks 
so much of you, that if you give one Tm sure he’ll 
let me go to that.” 

A peculiar look that Cornelia thought she under- 
stood, came into Nevin’s face, but it vanished in an 
instant and he said with a laugh, and a bow : 

‘•You honor me, my dear lady, by thinking I have 
so much influence with your husband.” 

Mr. Blun had darted a frowning look at his wife, 
but he had to clear his forehead, and even to force a 
somewhat pleasant expression to his face, for the 
guests were leaving, and as Mrs. Blun with a pang 
thought afterward, without saying yes, or no, about 
the party. 

“Poor Mrs. Blun !” said Nevin as they reached 
the street, “ she little knows what society is.” 

“ She expects you to give a party,” said Cornelia 
wickedly. 

“Perhaps I shall,” he replied. 

Cornelia stood still on the sidewalk, bringing him 
to a stand also. 

“Do you mean, Egbert, to give a party at which 
our friends, father and Edwin, would have to meet 
the Bluns ?” 

“Why notr’ 

“I thought you hated society customs,” the lady 
remarked. 

“ It is well sometimes, to do things we hate when 
others will be helped by them ; but don’t distress 
yourself, Cornelia ; there will be plenty of time to 
think about it : and now to come back to our call of 
this morning,” drawing her arm more firmly through 
his own, and walking on again, “ I tliink you may 
be able after a little to do that poor Mrs. Blun some 
good ; T shall try to induce her husband to abate a 
little of his dreadful discipline. You will try, Cor- 
nelia, will you not ?” 

*‘Oh, yes,” she said, keeping down a sigh, and wash- 
ing it were not so hard to please both him and Edwin. 


A CMl VALRO US DEED, AED WEAT CAME OF IT. 191 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

In spite of the fact that Mr. Nevin bad not given 
an answer to Mrs. Blun’s question of the party, Mrs, 
Blnn felt very hopeful about it, and it put her into 
such good spirits she did not mind much what her 
husband said to her. He looked very black when 
he turned from the door after parting with his visit- 
ors, but before he could utter a word, the cook with 
her bonnet and shawl on, and a bundle in her hand, 
thrust herself into the parlor. 

‘Tm going now, Mr. Blun she said, “and so 
that I’ll be mannerly. I’ll call at your store for my 
wages. I’m not in any hurry sir, for I don’t forget 
you were always a good payer. The dinner’s pretty 
well under way, so that Jane can manage it for this 
evening, and if you’re agreeable to the idea, sir, she 
knows a good cook as can take my place ; but she 
won’ t do the washing as I did ; maybe, however, 
you’d like to give the washing out ; there’s plenty 
of women ’d be glad to get it. Good bye, sir.” 

She made a deep courtesy to him, and was turn- 
ing to do the same to Mrs. Blun, when Mr. Blun 
said quickly, taking out his pocket-book. 

“I’ll pay you now ; that will cover what is due to 
you.” 

He put into her hand a bill ; it was a little over her 
month’s wages, at which she courtesied again to him, 
then she courtesied to Mrs. Blun and the children 
and went out. 

Mr. Blun turned to his wife. 


IQ2 A CmVALnoVS HMD, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

‘‘You will see that dinner is on the table at the 
usual liour. I am going to the store.” 

He went away, leaving his wife not knowing 
whether to be glad that he had not given his cus- 
tomary lecture on discipline, or to be angr^^ at the 
order he had given her about dinner. She said aloud 
regardless of the presence of the children. 

“ I wonder if he expects me to go into the kitchen 
and get the dinner.” 

Mrs. Blun did not like to remember that before her 
marriage she had been obliged to cook a good many 
dinners. 

“ That dreadful cook,” she went on, “ to leave like 
that ; but it’s all your fault, you horrid children,” 
turning her anger on her little sons. The children 
however, did not care much for their mother’s an- 
ger ; they knew she spoke just from the feeling of 
tile moment, and that she generally forgot to keep 
either her promises or her threats. 

“If Mr. Blun should take it into his head to give 
out the laundry work,” she went on, “ I suppose he 
will make me go roaming over the country to find a 
washerwoman.” 

Helen started. 

“A washerwoman, mamma; there’s a girl in our 
class, and her mother does washing. Shall I tell her 
you want her to do ours ?” 

“Oil, is there ?” said Mrs. Blun with a sigh of re- 
lief, “ well, tell your father about it when he comes 
* home.” 

Helen hoped with all her heart her father would 
tell her to speak to Nanny the very next day. That 
would be sweet revenge for the airs Nanny had put 
on about the shaker bonnet, for she meant to ask 
Nanny if her mother would do the washing, loud 
enough for many of the girls to hear, and that would 
make Nanny feel ashamed ; it would also take her 
pride down for having done better in the examination 
than anybody else. So busy was Helen with all 


A Om [^ALRO IfS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 193 . 

these thoughts she did not hear her mother tell her 
to call Catharine. Mrs. Blun was going to scold 
Catharine for having let Walter and Arden out of her 
sight. 

“ Helen !” called Mrs. Blun a second time, ‘‘ What 
a provoking child you are. Didn’t you hear me tell 
you to call Catharine down 

“No ma’am,” said Helen carelessly. 

Catharine had been very mucn tried that morning 
by the pranks of the twins, and when she came down 
stairs and found what she was wanted for, she said 
sharply : 

“Why did I let them out of my sight ? because 
it would take forty -four pair of eyes to watch them, 
and after they had plastered Lulu’s hair with mo- 
lasses, and put a live mouse in my work basket so 
that it jumped in my face when I opened the lid, 
and put the mustard that was in the cruet on Har- 
ry’s shoes, I was glad enough to let them out of my 
sight ; and I’ll say the same thing to Mr. Blun if he 
brings me to account.” 

The twins felt it was their turn to get angry, and 
Walter said before his brother could speak : 

“ That’s because you’re so sassy, Catharine ; 
you’re always scolding and you won’t let us do a 
thing.” 

“You won’t let us do a thing,” repeated Arden, 
“just as if we was babies like Lulu and Harry.” 

“ Me aint no baby,” said Lulu who with Susie had 
followed Catharine down from the nursery, where 
they left Harry taking his afternoon nap. 

Lulu went on boastfully : 

“ Me is a big dirl,” and she drew up her little 
figure till Helen and the boys laughed ; that made 
Lulu angry. She knit her brows, shut her chubby 
fists tight, and going up to Arden said : 

“Don’t ’00 laugh at me ; if ’00 do, I pummy ’00.” 

“ Pummy” meant pommel ; she had heard the cook 
use it frequently when that person wanted to speak 


194 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

of the whipping she thought the Blun boys so often 
and so richly deserved. Helen and her brother 
laughed again, louder than before ; then Lulu struck 
Arden with her fat fists. 

“ Take them away, Catharine,” said Mrs. Blun, 
roo lazy to trouble herself to quiet the uproar. 

Catharine began to drive the children before her ; 
then Arden gave Lulu a pinch that made her howl ; 
Walter with his foot tripped Helen up, making her 
fall against the ornamental fire irons that stood be- 
side the polished mantelpiece. They fell with a 
loud clatter, and Mrs. Blun got up from her seat, 
desperate. 

“Catharine, will you take those children away? 
I declare, between Mr. Blun, and you servants, and 
those dreadful children, I shall be on a sick bed.” 


l 


A GEI VA LUO E8 DEED, AND WE A I CAME OP IT. 195 


CHAPTER XYIIL 

When Mr. Blun came back to dinner he looked 
so stern Helen did not dare to speak to him ; she 
hoped her mother would broach the subject of the 
laundress but Mrs. Blun said nothing. 

Catharine waited on the table so as to let Jane 
finish the work in the kitchen, and the meal went 
on in the usual solemn silence. 

Mrs. Blun felt certain that after dinner her hus- 
band would speak to Catharine for Catharine’s own 
neglect of discipline in letting Walter and Arden out 
of her sight, and recollecting the girl’s impertinent an- 
swer to herself that afternoon, Mrs. Blun sincerely 
hoped he would. But, after dinner, instead of say- 
ing a word to Catharine, or even showing that he 
meant to speak to her later, he went into the" parlor 
without opening his lips to any one. Mrs. Blun fol- 
lowed him, and when she found he did not notice her 
presence, she began to feel uneasy. She did not know 
what new rules of “discipline,” he might be plan- 
ning. 

He was thinking whether he ought not to get an 
entire new set of servants, and while laying down his 
rules to^ them, lay them down anew to his wife, 
threatening at the same time if she did not see them 
kept, to bring an old maiden aunt to enforce them. 

But, to change all the help would take more time 
from his business than he could spare ; he never 
trusted his wife to engage a servant, — and at length, 
he made up his mind to keep the two he had, but he 


196 ^ GBlVALROnS DEBi), ABD WHAT CAME OF IT. 


would have a plain, stern talk with Cathpine, and 
he would go to the nursery so as to have it at once, 
and also to see what kind of discipline she had there. 
He said to his wife : 

“lam going to the nursery to see for myself what 
Catharine’s discipline is there in the evenings.” 

“ What discipline would you have there at this 
hour said his wife sharply, “ the children are 
asleep, I suppose.” 

“You suppose, Mrs. Blun ; it is your duty to 
know when they go to sleep, and to know whether 
Catharine regulates their lying down properly ; they 
should be placed on the side opposite the heart with 
their heads not too much raised, and their hands at 
a gentle inclination to their breasts.” 

“Yes ; and they’ll stay with their hands at a gen- 
tle inclination to their breasts,” mocked Mrs. Blun, 
“ they never roll in their beds, of course not, nor 
kick, nor get their heads off the pillows, nor fall out 
of bed ; oh, no ! the dear, quiet, little things ; they 
just stay like little wooden statues wherever you put 
them, Mr. Blun,” — and Mrs. Blun laughed. 

Her husband without answering her went up to 
the nursery. His wife followed him. 

The nursery was hardly prepared for Mr. Blun’s 
coming. It is true, Harry was asleep in his crib, 
and Lulu and Susie had been put into their little 
beds in the next room where Catharine also slept, 
and which opened into the nursery. 

The nursery was large enough, not only for 
Harry’s crib, and separate little beds for the twins, 
but also for a play room. 

Walter and Arden were not yet in bed, nor were 
they even getting ready to go to bed. Both were 
on their knees pretending to look for the contents 
of Catharine’s work basket. Arden had slyly upset 
it, and he and Walter had asked Catharine to let 
them stay up long enough to put all the things back, 
promising to do so with great care. 


A Cmi^ALBOUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. I97 

Catharine had a novel in her pocket that Jane had 
lent her ; she had read some of it and she was very 
anxious to read more, so she said : 

ril let you have ten minutes,” and sitting down 
by a little table under the gas jet, she began to read. 

“All right,” said Walter and Arden together, 
looking at each other and ‘‘ smiling jolly,” as Arden 
would have said. 

Then they pretended to look about the floor very 
carefully, Arden saying after a little : 

I’m gettin’ your needles fast, Catharine, an’Fm 
stickin’ ’em in your cushion. Gettin’ a good many 
pins, too. Siiall I stick ’em in with the needles?” 

“ Yes, yes ; put them all in the cushion, and don’t 
speak any more, but hurry up,” said Catharine, so 
interested in her book that she was impatient at be- 
ing interrupted. 

“ We’re hurryin’ all we can,” said Arden, “but 
there aint much light down here on the floor, so we 
has to feel with our fingers.’’ 

“While Arden was speaking Walter had crept 
to the open door ; after a little he looked back at 
Arden and nodded. All at once they stopped and 
jumped up, and in a tone of affright Arden cried : 

“ Papa is coming up here.” 

Catharine sprang to her feet shoving the book in- 
to her pocket and reached outlier hand to draw one 
of the boys to her, and just then the master of the 
house stood in the doorway. 

The light was not near enough to show his face 
plainly, but everybody felt from the motionless way 
he stood and looked about the room that he was in 
a rage. Walter and Arden trembled as they thought 
of his next step forward. 

Should they tell him, could they tell him ? but be- 
fore either of them could get courage to do so, Mr. 
Blun lay prostrate on the floor of the nursery. 

His feet had caught in the twine which Walter 
had fastened across the lower part of the doorway 


198 A CBIVALBOUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


in order to trip up Catharine when she should go 
out of the room : tliey knew she went down stairs 
for some purpose every night as soon as all the 
children were in bed. 

And Mr. Blun could not get up because one of his 
feet had become entangled in the twine. 

• The comical sight was too much for the nurse ; 
she laughed aloud, and Mrs. Blun who had been 
just behind her husband laughed aloud also. 

The boys were scared, and Walter ran to help his 
father, while Lulu awakened by the noise toddled 
out in her night gown, saying as she saw her father 
trying to get up : 

‘‘ Poor papa ! did ’oo fall 

During the twelve years of tlieir married life Mrs. 
Blun had never heard her husband use a profane 
word, but now, when at length he had released his 
foot, and stood up, she heard him say something 
between his teeth that sounded very much like 
swearing. 

He caught Walter and Arden each by an ear, but 
he said to Catharine : 

“ Do you know anything about this indicating 
the broken twine at his feet. 

Me know anything about that said Cath- 
arine, not afraid to speak boldly, for she felt that 
she would be blamed in any case. 

“You had better ask your sons about it, and ask 
them about all the mischief they’ve done to-day — 
giving the cat a bath isn’t all.” 

“Is this your doing ?” asked Mr. Blun, giving a 
tweak to the ear of each; the tweak brought a scream 
of pain from Arden, but only a flush and a wince 
from Walter; he was not going to let Catharine 
know it hurt him, and he said boldly, looking at her 
while he spoke : 

“I did it, papa. T went down into the kitchen 
after Cook went away, and I hunted till I found some 
nails ; then I got one of the smoothing irons and I 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 199 

came up here, and I hammered the nails in where 
you see ’em, and then Arden and me we took that 
cord from our kites, and we made it up to upset 
Catharine’s work basket to-night, so while Arden ’d 
be picking up the things I’d be tying the cord round 
the nails. We wanted to make Catharine fall when 
she’d go out of the room, because she told on us to- 
day, and she acts sassy to us all the time.” 

Mr. Blun did not forget that Catharine had laughed 
at him. 

‘‘It is plainly to be seen, Catharine,” he said, look- 
ing at her again, and not holding the little fellows’ 
ears quite so tightly, that your discipline of these 
children is not what it should be. At the end of the 
month you will find another place.” 

“Yes sir ; I’ll be glad to take another place,” 

Harry just then awoke, and began to cry, and Cath- 
arine was glad of the excuse to turn away from Mr. 
Blun to the child’s crib. 

Mr. Blun said, letting go of the little boy’s ears : 

“ What else did you do to-day, beside giving the 
cat a bath, and tying the cord to the door?” 

Walter, as usual was the spokesman. 

“There was some molasses in a jug on the dresser 
in the kitchen, and I thought it would be nice to put 
a little on Lulu’s hair to make it stay down slick 
like the stuff mamma puts on hers, so I took it when 
nobody wasn’t looking, and Lulu said she liked it.” 

“Es,” interposed Lulu, “me tould ub my hand 
on my hair, and then lick it ; it wos nice,” and she 
smacked her lips as if still tasting its sweetness. 

Walter went on. 

“ Catharine was awful mad and she soused Lulu’s 
head in the basin, and my head too, for punishment 
she said, and I just fighted her then, papa, but it 
wasn’t no use, cause she was so strong ; and then I 
went down to the yard, and Willie Pop next door 
was in his yard ; and he asked me if I wanted a live 
mouse, and I said yes ; and he had one tied to a long 


200 ^ cm VALEO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 

string and he throwed it over the fence, and I ketched 
the string and me and Arden put it in Catharine’s 
work basket, and that made her madder’ n ever ; and 
she took our bow arrows and hided them, and would 
n’t give ’em to us. 

, “Then Arden and me was tired, and we didn’t 
have nothing to play with, and Catharine, she was 
readin’, and she didn’t pay no’tention tons, and 
we went down stairs to the dining room, and the 
castor was on the table, and Arden, he said the mus- 
tard would do for yellow paint ; but we was afraid 
to paint any tiling in the dining room, so we took it 
up stairs, and Harry was asleep, and Catharine she 
was readin’ and Harry’s shoes was on the floor, and 
we just got ’em painted with the mustard when she 
seen us. Then, she was madder’n than Are, and she 
shaked us awful, and she called us monkeys. Now, 
papa, that’s all we did to-day.” 

The manner in which it was told sounded so amus- 
ing that Mrs. Blun could not help laughing to her- 
self, and with something of a mother’s feelings, she 
hoped her husband would not punish the little fel- 
lows ; she knew it would be useless for her to inter- 
cede for them. 

But, proud as Mr. Blun felt of the manly way in 
which his son had acknowledged his faults, and half 
disposed as he was to forgive them because of that 
manliness, he felt that he could not forego his wonted 
discipline. But it puzzled him to know what punish- 
ment to inflict, and after flve minutes deep thought 
he said that the little boys should have no dessert for 
a month, and should be conflned to the nursery for a 
whole day. Then he went down stairs, his wife fol- 
lowing him. When they reached her dressing room 
he paused, saying : 

“ I want to speak to you, Mrs. Blun.” 

Then he opened the door and stepped aside to let 
ner precede him into the room. He closed the door 
carefully after him and went on with his slow^ pre- 


A GHIVALRO U8 DEED. AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 201 

cise step to the middle of the floor. His wife seated 
herself in the most comfortable chair, thinking : 

“ I may as well make mj^self as easy as I can un- 
der these trying circumstances.’’ 

‘‘ Mrs. Blun ?” said her husband, keeping his voice 
up as if he intended to say more, but first wanted to 
be sure that she was paying proper attention. 

“ Mr. Blun?” she said, mocking him. 

He went on : 

‘‘I wish, Mrs. Blun, to lay before you again the 
rules necessary to keep up my discipline. 1 am go- 
ing to engage new domestics, and it behooves me, 
Mrs. Blun to see that they are instructed in their new 
duties without fear of misunderstanding, or laxity on 
their part ; and i t behooves you, Mrs. Blun to so un- 
derstand my rules, and to so follow out the require- 
ments of my discipline, that these new domestics 
shall not be able to transgress, or violate, or neglect, 
any part of their duty.” 

Mrs. Blun arranged herself still more comfortably 
in her chair. 

“ Are you going to send Jane away also ?” she 
inquired. 

Yes ; I shall make an entirely clean sweep. I 
shall not permit to remain in my house any servant 
who has witnessed the violations of discipline that 
have taken place, and who probably would report 
them to the newly engaged help.” 

Mrs. Blun thouglit it a good opportunity to find out 
what he meant to do about the family washing, and 
she asked : 

Do you want the washing done out of the house ? 
Helen says there’s a girl in her class whose mother 
is a tine laundress, and I know it will be easier to 
get a good cook when she is hired to do nothing 
but the cooking.” 

“Mrs. Blun, 1 desire that you turn your mind 
away from the family washing just now. My object 
in speaking to you at this time is to impress upon 


202 ^ CHIVALRO US BKEB, Ah^B WHAT CAME OF IT. 

you a proper sense of your duties and your respon- 
sibilities ; in a word, Mrs. Blun, to make sure that 
you understand wliat I wish, Mrs. Blun, and that 
you will do it ; do it, Mrs. Blun, do it.” 

Mrs. Blun sat up very straight in her chair and 
' asked sharply : 

‘‘Mr. Blun, am I your wife, or am I your ser- 
vant 

“ You have the honor, Mrs. Blun, to be my wife, 
and the female head of my house, but as such I ex- 
pect you to do your duty in carrying out my disci- 
pline ; in teaching my children x)erfect propriety of 
conduct, and my servants a perfect knowledge of their 
duties ; otherwise, Mrs. Blun, painful as the dut}^ 
will be I shall be obliged to bring my maiden aunt, 
the worthy Miss Rebecca Luxor, to take charge of 
my household, and to teach you^ Mrs. Blun, how to 
keep the discipline I demand in my l■amil3^” 

Mrs. Blun was out of her chair in an instant. 

“Bring your aunt here to teach me% to be over 
my family? try it, Mr. Blun — let that woman, or 
any other woman, coming in such a capacity, cross 
the threshold of this house, if you dare.” 

Mrs. Blun’s temper surprised her husband; she 
had generally seemed too lazy to take the trouble to 
show so much spirit, and not knowing quite what to 
say to her he retreated to the door. 

“Mrs. Blun,” he said, “ having lost all control of 
yourself, you are not in a condition to be spoken 
to.” 

Then before she could reply, he left the room. 

Just because Mrs. Blun seemed to think well of 
giving out the family washings Mr. Blun thong lit it 
would^ not be well at all, and the next morning he 
left his business to go to an intelligence office for a 
cook. 

Hitherto Mr. Blun had been rather fortunate in 
obtaining servants through the recommendation of 
customers, and in not having to change his help of- 


A GEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 203 

ten. Now, however, the customers who might have 
helped him were out of town, and when he went to 
the intelligence office he was told by the proprietor 
it was not a good time to get competent servants, 
most servants prefering to make no change till the 
autumn, but the gentleman could see those who were 
waiting for places. 

A very large woman came forward ; Mr. Blun 
looked ridiculously small beside her. 

“You have references, I suppose,” he asked. 

“Ay,” she answered shortly, looking down at 
him as if he were too small to give more words to. 

“ Very good references ?” he asked again, and try- 
ing at the same time to make the most of his beside 

“Ay,” she said a second time. 

“You understand cooking in all its branches ?” 

Ay.” 

“And you know how to help with the family 
washing, clear starching, polishing shirts, and all 
that ?” 

The woman all at once lost her laconic manner of 
speaking. 

“Do you mean to do washing with the cooking ? 
ril let you know I’m no such haberdasher as that 
— if I understands cooking in all its branches, it isn’t 
to be hired as a common washerwoman, and the next 
time — ” turning to the proprietor, “ you call me up 
to be spoken to, let me know whether it’s a gentle- 
man or not that wants me.” 

And she flounced back to the room from which she 
had been called. 

The proprietor said blandly to Mr. Blun : 

“ I am afraid it would be little use to call out any 
of the others, for she will have spoken of you in such 
a manner, that not one of them will care even to see 
you.” 

Mr. Blun was very angry, but he only showed his 
anger by a freezing bow to the proprietor ; then he 
went to" another intelligence office. Here, the first 


204 : ^ GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF If. 

woman who was called to speak to him, was short, 
stout, and she looked as if she knew her own worth 
very well. 

She had good references, understood cooking — 
Mr. Blun said nothing about the branches this 
time— but she shook her head at the idea of having 
anything to do with the family washing. 

“A cook as understands her business, sir, won’t 
consent to nothing that takes her away from her 
range, and I couldn’ t on no account have my char- 
acter destroyed by anything like that.” 

And though the proprietor of this office, unlike the 
other proprietor, did not say what the woman would 
do when she returned to her companions, it seemed 
as if she must have done what the big woman in the 
other office had done, for when another person was 
told to see Mr. Blun, she said it was no use since lie 
wanted one servant to do the work of two. 

Mr. Blun left that office beginning to feel that his 
wife was not altogether wrong when she said it 
would be easier to get a cook if the cook were hired 
to do nothing more than the cooking. 

But he tried a third office, and a smart looking 
middle aged woman was summoned from the inner 
room to see him. 

Wanting to know at once how she felt about the 
two kinds of work, he spoke of that before he said 
a word of her knowledge of cooking, or asked about 
he reference and she said : 

“You want the cook to help with the washing? 
well, how many in family have you, sir?” 

“ Six children and two grown people.” 

“Six children/’ she repeated aghast, “oh, I couldn’ t 
go where there’s six children. Now, if there was one, 
or two, I mightn’t mind ; but six, sir, is entirely 
too many for any gentlemau to have that wants the 
cook to do the washing.” 

Mr. Blun was indignant ; such undisciplined, im- 
pertinent pf^ppl^ he never h met, and it with 


A OmFALEOUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF 12. ' 205 

difficulty lie turned from the office without saying 
something strongly expressive of his feelings. 

He looked at his watch and finding that his three 
calls in search of a cook had taken nearly double 
the time he had intended to give, he hurried back to 
the store, feeling as he went, not quire so decided 
about engaging an entirely new set of servants. So 
far as he knew, Jane had not violated his discipline ; 
there was no reason then to send her away, and be- 
ing in that frame of mind when he went home it was 
not pleasant to be told by his wife in her easy 
way . 

“ I hope you have found a cook, Mr. Blun ; 

‘‘Jane does not like being in the kitchen, and as 
her month will be np in a week, and you said you 
were going to change all the help, I told her to be 
on the lookout for another place.’’ 

“ Mrs. Blun, I think it was one of the rules of my 
discipline when we went to housekeeping that /was 
to engage and dismiss the servants ; to tell them 
when they suited, and to notify them when they 
did not.” 

“ Yes, Mr. Blun ; and a very comfortable rule it 
was for me ; it saved me a great deal of trouble and 
bother.” 

“Then, why have you broken the rule now ; 
why did you not leave it to me to tell Jane 

“On the principle of justice, Mr. Blun, and ac- 
cording to the example of fair warning which you 
set me last evening. Did you not tell me that Miss 
Rebecca Luxor would be set over this establishment 
if I did not attend to matters ?” 

“Call Jane !” interrupted Mr. Blun, not wishing 
to hear anymore about Miss Luxor. 

“lam sorry, Mr. Blun, that I can’t oblige you, 
but Jane is getting the dinner ; surely it would be 
against your discipline to take her from her duties 
now.” 

Mrs. Blun’s easy manner and calm even tones were 


206' ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


exasperating, for against them her Imsband’s dis- 
cipline could do nothing. He said shortly : 

‘‘ 1 shall see Jane after dinner.” 

After dinner, to Jane’s own astonishment, as well 
as to the astonishment of her mistress, Mr. Blun, not 
alone asked her to keep her place, but he told her to 
send to his store the cook she knew who wanted a 
situation. Then he called Helen. 

“ Does the mother of one of your classmates do 
family washing?” 

^‘Yes, papa:” said Helen, her eyes sparkling. 

“ Tell that classmate to send her mother to my 
store.” 

“Yes, papa;” said Helen again, and she never 
went to sleep with more satisfaction than she did that 
night thinking of what she should say to Nanny the 
next day. 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT 207 


CHAPTEE XIX 

“ Tavish, my father wants your mother 

to do our family washing ; you tell her to call at his 

store; it’s number Broadway,” pronouncing the 

number and the street with great emphasis. 

Such was the manner in which Helen gave her fa- 
ther’s message to Nanny, and as it was just as the 
class had reached the yard for the moriiing recess, 
many of the girls heard it. Nanny felt as if a stone 
had struck her. She turned pale, then red ; so red 
that everything before her seemed to look red : but 
after that her proud little spirit asserted itself. She 
drew herself up, gave Helen Blun an indignant look, 
and walked away without saying a word. But Liz- 
zie Morrell who had heard Helen, could not be si- 
lent. She said with as much anger as though Helen’s 
message had been delivered to her : 

You’re a mean thing, Helen Blun, and you just 
said that because you wanted to tell where your fa- 
ther’s store was. I know what kind of a store he 
keeps — a tailor store — he’s just a tailor— 2indi is that 
any better than being a washerwoman, I’d like to 
know ?” looking round at the girls who had gathered 
about her and Helen. Some of the girls answered : 

“ No,” *and Lizzie went on with tantalizing con- 
tempt : 

Giving herself such airs when her father’s only a 
tailor.” 

That was turning the tables most unexpectedly on 
Helen, and for a second she looked as if she did not 


208 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


know wliat to do ; then, remembering that her father 
Vi merchant tailor, she said quickly : 

‘‘ My father isn’t any common tailor ; he’s a gentle- 
man tailor,” gentleman seemed to her abetter word 
than merchant. 

‘‘ What kind of a tailor would he be if he wasn’t 
a gentleman tailor ?” laughed Lizzie. “He couldn’t 
be a woman tailor, could he ? He’s a man, isn’t he ?” 

At which all the girls laughed, and Helen, becom- 
ing desperate, said back : 

“Well, anyway, he’s not a feather bed tied in 
the middle, like your aunt is, as everybody saw on 
examination day, and he isn’t tied up in a red flannel 
bag like your uncle, and ” 

She was cut short by Lizzie, who not able to bear 
that speech about her beloved uncle, sprang at 
Helen, but before she could do anything more Miss 
Robson came on the scene. It was Miss Robson’s 
week for duty in the yard, and she caught Lizzie b}^ 
the shoulder and shook her. 

“You little virago ; what class are you in ?” 

“Miss Olden’s,” said Lizzie sullenly, and making 
a face at Helen, who now that she had a teacher ro 
protect her stood looking as if she had been very 
much hurt by Lizzie. 

“Miss Olden !” said Miss Robson, “she has the 
worst disciplined class in the whole school. Her girls 
are always doing something. You just report your- 
self to your teacher for disorder in the yard, and 
tell her to give you a debit.” 

“ Yes’m,” answered Lizzie, making another face 
at Helen. 

On returning to the class room Helen waited only 
, till the girls had taken their seats to raise her hand. 

“What do you want, Helen Blun ? It seems to 
me you always want something just as I am ready 
to begin a lesson.” 

“ Miss Robson told Lizzie Morrell to report her- 
self to you for disorder in the yard.” 


A CmVALHOU'S DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 209 


‘‘Oh, you mean tattle tale!” burst from Lizzie. 
“She didn’t give me a chance to tell you, Miss 
Olden. I meant to report it this afternoon when I 
give in my marks, Miss Robson told me to take 
a debit — there 1” and she turned and glared at 
Helen. 

By this time half of the class had their hands up, 
and some of the girls too impatient to wait for per- 
mission to speak, began at once : 

“ Miss Robson said you had the worst disciplined 
class in the whole school ; that your girls were al- 
ways doing something.” 

Miss Olden trembling with anger rapped furiously 
with her ruler on the desk. 

“Be quiet, every one of you, and you, Helen 
Blun, take your seat and put down your hand.” 

“But Lizzie Morrell was going to strike me only 
Miss Robson saved me,” burst from Helen, deter- 
mined that Miss Olden should know about Lizzie’s 
dreadful conduct. 

“Helen Blun, will you be quiet? and you, Liz- 
zie may be excused from the debit Miss Robson 
gave you, because you told the truth. Take your 
slates, girls.” 

The girls took their slates, most of them a good 
deal puzzled by their teacher’s ready pardon of Liz- 
zie. Helen was very angry ; Lizzie of course, was 
delighted, and within the next ten minutes she had 
managed to draw on her slate unseen by the teacher, 
a comical picture of a little, fat man sitting cross-leg- 
ged, and sewing ; underneath, she wrote : 

“Mr. Blun, gentleman tailor.” All the girls who 
saw the picture nearly clicked in their efforts to keep 
from laughing aloud, and Helen, though she did not 
see the slate, felt they were laughing about her. 

Nanny, however, happened to see the drawing, 
and what was written under it ; her first thought 
was to enjoy it as the other girls were doing, and to 
feel glad that Helen was served so 5 then came the 


210 ^ GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

recolleclion of what her mother often said to her 
about hurting people’s feelings. But, it was hard 
to spare Helen's feelings when Helen did not care 
in the least to spare hers. 

The struggle with herself became so violent, it 
brought the color into her cheeks, and made her 
breath come quickly. But, she conquered, and 
taking her slate rag she rubbed out the drawing, 
smiling at Lizzie, and shaking her head gently while 
she did so. 

Before the day was over, some one told Helen 
Bliiri all about it; but instead of feeling thankful 
to Nanny, and ashamed of her conduct, she disliked 
Nanny still more, for being so much better than she 
was herself. 

Nanny, however, was very happy for the victory 
she had gained, and she went home with such a 
pleasant face that her mother could not help kiss- 
ing her a second time. 

Have things gone unusually well in school to- 
day, to make you look so bright?” she asked. 

Nanny laughed, and told about the drawing and 
how she had rubbed it out, but she did not tell any- 
thing that had happened before that, excusing the 
omission to herself by thinking, that she did not 
want her mother to know how Helen Blun had hurt 
her feelings. But, she knew in her secret heart that 
was not the only, nor the chief reason for not telling. 
The true cause was, lest her mother, who, as Nanny 
knew sorely needed more work, might think of tak- 
ing the Blun’s washing. 

Mrs. Tavish hearing nothing more than that Lizzie 
Morrell had made a contemptuous drawing of Mr. 
Blun, said : 

“ What an unkind little girl Lizzie Morrell must 
be to hurt any one’s feelings like that.” 

Nanny’s conscience troubled her. 

“Lizzie isn’t unkind,” she said quickly, “she’s 
the best girl in our class.” 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T CA ME OF IT. 21 1 


‘‘But what you have just told me, Nanny — draw- 
ing such a picture — why should she do that ? ” 

Well, you see, Helen had said something about 
Lizzie’s uncle that Lizzie loves just as I love you, 
mamma, and Lizzie couldn’t stand that.” 

“ But, you didn’t tell me that, Nanny, and even 
in that case, I should like Lizzie better if she had 
not made that drawing and I am so glad my own 
little daughter rubbed it out. Proud and happy as 
you made me on examination day, you make me 
much prouder and happier whenever you do a kind 
action.” 

The praise seemed to burn Nanny. If her mother 
but knew that it was by taking Nanny’s part Lizzie 
had caused Helen to say what she did her mother 
would not then think that Lizzie was so unkind. But 
if Nanny told all, her mother might take the washing; 
so she did not tell, but she became very unhappy ; 
so unhappy that her mother at length noticed the 
change. 

“ What is the matter, Nanny ?” she asked. “You 
look so different from what you did when yon came 
in. Are you sick ?” 

“No ma’am,” answered Nanny, forcing herself to 
smile, and beginning to arrange her books as an ex- 
cuse to keep her face from her mother’s sight. 

The little girl’s conscience was sick because of the 
wrong she h^ad done to Lizzie ; and when bed time 
came and she was ready for her mother’s goodnight 
kiss, she could bear it no longer. She threw herself 
on her mother’s breast and sobbed out all that she 
had not told, even to her fear that Mrs. Tavish would 
take the washing of the Bluns. 

Mrs. Tavish kissed her little daughter several times 
before she answered ; then she said very gently : 

“ It would have been something that I would not 
think you could do, if you had gone to bed without 
telling me all the truth about Lizzie Morrell. You 
see, it makes her out quite a different girl from what 


212 CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


I thought. Now, my dear, let the pain which this 
keeping back of part of the truth, has given you, 
make you all the more careful in future to be just to 
everybody, no matter what pain it gives yourself. 
Never keep back part of the trutli. Nanny, when by 
so doing you place another in an unfair light. 

Then, without saying a word of tlie Blun washing, 
Mrs. Tavish kissed Nanny good night, and turned 
away The little girl sprang up. 

“Mamma, you haven’t said anything about tak- 
ing the washing for the Bluns.” 

Mrs. Tavish turned back to the bed-side. 

“No : because it would pain you very much if I 
did.” 

“ Would it help you a great deal, mamma ? Do 
you need it very badly 

“It would help a good deal, dear, for I have so 
little work now, everybody going to the country ; 
but never mind about it,” and Mrs. Tavish turned 
away again. 

But Nanny did mind about it, feeling all the 
worse because of her mother’s loving consideration 
for her, and instead of going to sleep at once, she 
began to think whether it would be such a dreadful 
thing if her mother were to work for the Bluns. 
To be sure, Helen would tell it to everybody in the 
class, and the thought of the contempt the girls might 
have for her made her hide her face in the bed clothes. 

She fell asleep at length, still fighting with herself, 
and she dreamed about it all night. 

In the morning the struggle began again, and she 
almost wished that her mother would give her an 
opportunity to say she would not mind if she did 
take the Blun washing. 

But Mrs. Tavish said nothing, and Nanny could 
not bring herself to speak first about it. 

On the evening before Helen Blun had been asked 
by her father if the mother of her classmate was 
going to call at his store as he had ordered. 


A ClIlVALROttSDBED, AND WN At GAME OF It. 21 ^ 


“ I don’t know,” Helen answered, somewhat 
frightened lest he should blame her for not bringing 
him a direct answer. ‘‘ I told her to tell her mother.” 

She did not dare to say how Nanny had received 
the message, lest her father might think she had not 
given it in a proper manner. She knew, as well as 
Mrs. Blun did, ‘‘putting on airs,” or boasting, was 
dreadfully against Mr. Blun’s discipline. 

“ Ask her about it, to-morrow,” he said, “ and bring 
me a decided answer ; it will not be enough if the 
woman should not call, 1 must know her intentions.” 

Helen said : 

“Yes sir.” 

But the next day in school she was afraid to speak 
to Nanny, so she tore a fly leaf out of her geography 
when Miss Olden was not looking, and wrote : 

“ My father wants to know if your mother will do 
our washing ?” 

At recess she put the note into Nanny’s hand, and 
waited while she read it. 

Nanny’s struggle with herself had been going on 
all the morning, so that she was rather glad to get 
the note ; it gave her an opportunity of doing what 
she felt was right, without having the humiliation 
of speaking to Helen first, and she said in a low tone : 

“I shall tell my mother this afternoon, and she 
will go to see your father to-morrrow.” 

Helen, to her own surprise, found lierself saying 
“ thank you,” as she turned away, and when she 
joined her companions she did not seem to have any 
wish to tell them what had just passed between her- 
self and Nanny. Somehow, Nanny’s look and man- 
ner had made her feel as if it were Nanny who were 
doing her a favor. 

Nanny, now that she had done what she felt to be 
her duty, wished ardently for the hour of dismissal, 
and when it came she ran home without waiting for 
the usual brief play in the yard. 

She reached her mother’s presence out of breath. 


214 ^ CmVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


‘‘Mamma, I’ve told Helen Blun, that you would 
go to see her father to-morrow about the washing.” 

Then she hid her face in her mother’s lap, and 
sobbed from tlie very reaction of her feelings. 

Mrs. Tavisb, soothing iier at first by caresses, said 
in her fond, gentle way : 

“ Tell me all about it ; how did ^’’ou come to say 
that to Helen ?” 

Nanny told her, describing, the long struggle she 
had with herself, and how Helen had delivered her 
father’s message in a much more polite manner. 

“I suppose I was awful proud, yesterday,” she 
went on, “ but I couldn’t help it ; it sounds so, you 
know when the gills say, ‘ her mother is a washer- 
woman’, and I’m proud about it yet, too. It hurts 
awful to think that they’ll all know you’re Helen 
Blun’s washerwoman, for she’ll tell them. But, I’ve 
made up my mind not to care,” straightening her- 
self a little, and then lowering her voice and looking 
away from her mother’s face, “ when I think how it’s 
for me you’re working so hard and liow you were 
willing not to take the washing because it would 
make me feel bad, oh, mamma, it seems as if I never 
would have another proud thought,” and her tears 
came afresh. 

“ My own noble little daughter,” said Mrs. Tavish, 
and then she waited for the child to become quite 
calm, before she said ; 

“ If 1 get this work, dear, it will seem like spe- 
cial help sent to us, for two gentlemen whose wash- 
ing I expected to have all summer are going away at 
the end of this week, and if Mr. Blun’s family do 
not go into the country in August ” 

“ They don’t,” interrupted Nanny, “for the other 
day when the girls were talking about vacation and 
the country, one of them asked Helen where she was 
going, and she tossed her head and said : 

‘ We never go to the country because my mamma 
thinks it’s common’ ” “ and Lizzie Morrell laughed 


ACEIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 215 


and said it was ‘sour grapes,’ and then nearly all the 
^irls laughed, and Helen tossed her head again, and 
^aid it was because her mamma thought it common.” 

I think both Helen and Lizzie are to be pitied, 
fou don’t take part in any of these things, Nanny.” 

“ Never, mamma ; but I can’t help hearing them, 
and I can’t help being glad when Lizzie takes Helen 
down. And a good many of the other girls are glad 
too. We all think if it wasn’t for Lizzie, Helen would 
put on a good many more airs.” 

“ Well, dear ; try to think as kindly as you can 
of Helen, and when she gets older and has learned 
more, she may lose all this unpleasant manner, and 
now, we won’t talk about her any more.” 

“ But you’ll go to Mr. Blun’s store, to-morrow ?” 

“Yes.” 

Neither mother nor daughter spoke of the Bluns 
again. 

As soon as Nanny went to school the next morn- 
ing, Mrs. Tavish started for the merchant tailor’s es- 
tablishment. She found it easily, and she was met 
by Mr. Blun himself. Her manner pleased him ; he 
thought she was a woman of great self discipline, 
and writing something on a card he told her to take 
it at once to Mrs. Blun. Mrs. Tavish thought Mr. 
Blun was a very odd man, and when she saw Mrs. 
Blun she wondered how the two had ever become 
husband and wife. 

“ You are the washerwoman my husband has en- 
gaged,” Mrs. Blun said, reading the card. “ he has 
made the terms with you, of course?” 

“Yes;” replied Mrs. Tavish. “Well, so far as I’m 
concerned, I have only one thing to say ; that is, I 
want my skirts very stiff — you understand ?” 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Tavish again and then Mrs. 
Blun called Jane to do up the bundle. 

“Most of the married ladies I have washed for,” 
said Mrs. Tavish to herself as she went borne, “wanted 
to have their husband’s shirts done up nicely, 


Sl6 A GHlVALRO US DEED, AND WNAT GAME OF If. 


but all Mrs. Blmi cared about was her own skirts.” 

She said nothing to Nanny, however, more than 
that Mr. Blun had agreed to pay what she asked, and 
that as the family would not go to the country she 
was fortunate to get the work. 

Helen could not go on keeping from her classmates 
the fact that Nanny’s mother had actually got to be 
the Blun family washerwoman, but she did not tell 
it in Nanny’s hearing, partly because of vague fear 
as to what Nanny might say or do in return, and 
partly because she was positively afraid of the man- 
ner in which Lizzie took Nanny’s part. And the 
girls to whom Helen told it, talked of it among them- 
selves, and pretended to each other to have a sort of 
contempt for Nanny because her mother was the 
washerwoman of one of their classmates. They 
never showed to the little girl herself anything that 
could hurt her feelings ; her own gentle manners, as 
well as her readiness to do them any little service 
in her power^ prevented that. 

Vacation was drawing near, and lessons and dis- 
cipline were not so strict, everybody feeling that the 
hard work of the year deserved such relaxation. 
Even Miss Amer was not so stern, and Miss Tib- 
betty did not find fault when the order in the main 
room was disturbed by the turning of eyes and the 
moving of heads. 

All this helped Miss Olden to recover somewhat 
from her unhappy feelings about the examination, 
and to make her soften even to Miss Robson. She 
softened so much that on the last day when the teach- 
ers were having ice cream and cake at recess, amid 
such a noise of tongues it was almost equal to the 
noise in the play ground, and everybody seemed too 
happy to contain herself. Miss Olden stole up to Miss 
Robson, and said : 

‘‘ Are you going to spend your vacation in Ver- 
mont as you did last year ?” 

Her answer was the stoniest look from Miss Rob- 


A GBIVALRO US DEED AND WUA T CAME OF If. 217 


son ; it prevented Miss Olden from saying anything 
more, and she turned as red as the roses in the tum- 
bler on the table, and went back to her, place. 

Miss Robson at once resumed her gay remarks, add- 
ing, as she saw in some of the faces about her, looks 
of pity for Miss Olden. 

“ Anybody who makes a false charge against me 
once, shall never do it again, and to make sure that 
such calumny cannot occur a second time, I cease all 
ac Laintance with that jpersoii.” 



i^ver^’-body present had heard more than once, 
Miss Robson’s account of what had taken place be- 
tween her and Miss Olden ; it was an account that 
made Miss Robson appear as an angel of kindness 
to Miss Olden, and Miss Olden as guilty of black in- 
gratitude to Miss Robson. 

And as Miss Olden was not hardened enough to 
continue putting the blame of the failure of her class 
away from herself, and on the other teacher, but 
rather, in the troubled state of her conscience blamed 
herself entirely. 

Miss Robson’s account had been generally be- 
lieved. 

At this time, however, when they were going to 
be separated for some weeks, and no one knew 
whether they should all meet again, it did seem 
to the more Christian-hearted as if Miss Robson were 
carrying her spirit of anger too far : and these good 
souls were bold enough to say so, but with no effect 
so far as that resolute young woman was concerned 
— with no effect even after they themselves had gone 
up to Miss Olden and kissed her, and whispered to 
her not to feel badly. 

But Miss Olden did feel very unhappy at being 
treated in such a manner, and when her own thoughts 
were so kindly. 

When she returned to her class room it was with 
difficulty she kept from crying. If but the curtain 
of her life would have rolled up a little, and she 


218 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT, 


could have seen how grotesquely fate was going to 
change the situations of her and Miss Robson she 
would have laughed instead of cried. 

At the hour of dismissal every one of Miss Olden’s 
forty pupils kissed her, some of them shyly, most 
of them warmly, and with a look in their little faces 
that told alone of their love and good will. 

Her impatience, her anger, the punishments she 
had inflicted, the injustice of which — under the sore 
pressure of injustice done to herself — she had been 
guilty, were all forgotten, and her heart still aching 
from Miss Robson’s cruel rebuff, felt all the more 
these touching little signs of affection. 

But it was Lizzie Morrell who touched her most. 
She had punished Lizzie oftener than any girl in 
the class ; she had scolded her every day, and some- 
times many times in the day, except the occasion on 
which she had excused her from the debit Miss 
Robson had given, she could not think of a single 
time that she had not made Lizzie suffer the full 
penalty of her misdeeds. Yet, here was Lizzie 
now, not only throwing her arms around Miss Olden’s 
neck, and kissing her affectionately, but when she 
had taken her arms away pulling out of her pocket 
a little worsted lamp mat. 

“ I made it myself, for you,” she said, and then 
as if very much ashamed she darted out of the 
room. 

Some of the girls had brought presents to Miss 
Olden that morning, but they had put them with a 
good deal of show on her table so that the whole 
class could see them, and Miss Olden had thanked 
them ; but not one of the gifts touched her like this 
simple little one from Lizzie, made by Lizzie’ s self . 

She wrapped it up carefully and when she went 
home she put it under the lamp that she used in 
her own room. Lizzie had fringed it with bright 
yellow worsted, and somehow, as Miss Olden looked 
at it,— the fringe being the only part to be seen out- 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 219 

side the lamp, — she felt as if she had changed her 
mind about having a good cry. 

The bright color together with the loving, forgiv- 
ing spirit of the child, seemed like a promise of 
something bright in the future, and instead of sit- 
ting down and thinking how miserable she was, she 
put on her bonnet and went out to make a call on a 
friend. 


^20 ^ GEtVALRO VS DEED, AND WUAT GAME OE IT 


CHAPTER XX. 

The very thought of freedom from school for five 
weeks was enough to delight even the children who 
could not go to the country. 

Mr. Blun regarded going to the country for the 
summer as more fashionable than necessary, conse- 
quently it would be against his discipline to indulge 
his family in such folly 

Yet Mrs. Blun was accustomed to say to her neigh- 
bors that the reason she did not go to the country, 
was because it was so common, ^a reason that her 
neighbors who went to the country resented behind 
her back. And though Helen gave the same reason 
to her classmates, and gave it with an excellent im- 
itation of her mother’s manner in giving it, she 
wished with all her heart that they were permitted 
to change the scene like their neighbors. 

On the last day Helen threw her books down with 
a little envious sigh of the Pops next door who had 
departed that very morning for the Catskill Moun- 
tains. Then, as she went to look for Jane to get her 
some bread and milk, she heard Susie and Arden 
quarreling on the floor above, and the new nurse, 
the third engaged by Mr. Blun since Catharine went 
away, vainly trying to make peace. 

At length it came to a hand to hand fight in which 
sides seemed to be taken by all the children, and the 
screaming and the shuffling of feet, mingled with 
the shrill voice of the nurse, filled the whole house. 

Mrs. Blun rushed out of the back parlor where 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 221 

she had been reading, boxed Arden’s ears, gave a 
slap to Walter, another to Susie, shook Lulu, and 
then she said to the nurse, a large, good natured 
looking woman : 

•‘‘It does seem, Maggie, as if you might at least 
keep those children quiet.” 

“Indeed, mum, it would take more than me to 
keep them quiet ; they act as if they were possessed 
the whole tribe of them.” 

Mrs. Blun called over the baluster. 

“ Has Helen come in yet f ’ 

“Yes ma’am,” answered Jane who was pouring 
out a goblet of milk for the little girl. 

“ Then, tell her to come up at once, and help to 
keep these children quiet.” 

Mrs. Blun went back to her book. 

Helen made a face. 

“I won’t go,” she said sullenly. “I can’t do a 
thing, nor have a minute to myself with those tire- 
some children, and I suppose all vacation it’ll be, 
‘Helen, keep thdse children quiet, Helen, stay with 
those children.’ ” 

Jane had to turn aside to hide her amusement at 
the little girl’s clever mimicry of Mrs. Blun’s tone 
and words. 

“ I declare, it’s just awful,” she went on, gulping 
down her bread and milk, “but I won’t go,” she re- 
peated, looking at Jane as if she expected Jane to 
say something. In a moment, however, the whole 
troop came rushing down the stairs, and out through 
the hall to the yard, the nurse in mad pursuit. 

They led her a lively chase, and the sight of such a 
big woman running after the children brought the 
new cook, Jane's friend, to the kitchen window where 
she laughed loud enough to be heard on the floor 
above. 

Walter and Arden as nimble as monkeys had 
climbed to the toj) of the summer house, and there 
they sat crowing like two roosters. Susie had fled 


222 ^ CUIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


like a hare ; Maggie could not get even within touch- 
ing distance of her, while Lulu who had toddled af- 
ter the party stood clapping her hands and saying : 

‘*’Oo tant fetch ’em — ’oo know ’oo tant.” 

Jane, attracted by the cook’s laugh, had gone to 
see the fun, but Helen, knowing that Maggie would 
expect her to obey her mother’s order, remained 
quietly at her bread and milk. 

Maggie, finding it useless to try to catch any of 
them, gave up the chase, and dripping with pers- 
piration and panting, she went into the kitchen. 

“They’re not children,” she said, when she got 
back her breath, “ they’re imps, and I’ll not stay ; 
I’d rather be on my knees scrubbing from morning 
till night than minding them. I’ll tell himself so, 
when he conies home.” 

And she did tell “himself,” as soon as he came 
home, adding : 

“I’d like to go as soon as my week is up,” — she 
had been in the house three days — “for the children 
have strained my nerves so that I shall need a rest be- 
fore I take another place.” 

“ Very well,” Mr. Blun answered shortly, and then 
he went up to have it out with Mrs. Blun. 

Mrs. Blun was trying on a fancy head dress. She 
had made it from an imported pattern which she had 
borrowed, and she was so engaged with it, she did 
not do more than glance at her husband when he en- 
tered, and she said in answer to his stern reproof : 

“ Well, Mr. Blun, you don’t hire the right kind of 
servants. You see, you’re a man, and a man has so 
little judgment. Do you think that blue is becoming, 
or would it look prettier just to bunch the lace so 
and with one band holding a frill of lace against her 
hair, she turned and faced him. 

“Mrs. Blun, this is not a time to question me 
about your vanities. I have come up here, to call 
you to account for your wicked want of discipline in 
your family, after all my late orders to you.” 


A GHIVALRO US DEED, A ND WHA T GAME 0 F IT. 223 


‘‘I know that’s what you came up for,” turning 
back to the glass again, ‘‘ but I am so tired Blun, dear, 
of your eternal discipline.” 

“Mrs. Blun!” 

Mr. Blun fairly thundered her name and his wife 
started. 

“Discipline shall be maintained in this house,” 
and then as if afraid to trust himself to say more, he 
turned and left the room. 

Mrs. Blun made a face at herself in the glass which 
she meant for her husband, and then she said to her- 
self : 

“ I wonder what he’ll do now, to maintain his dis- 
cipline ; something horridly disagreeable I suppose ; 
but there’s one thing, he will hardly dare to bring 
that Rebecca Luxor here.” 

Fate, however, was even then conspiring to make 
Miss Luxor a member of the Blun family. The mail 
of the very next morning brought a letter from that 
lady to Mr. Blun. 

The friend Miss Luxor had made her home with, 
had died, and her own means had failed. 

“ I only write to you, my dear nephew,” the letter 
went on, “ to ask you to get me work of some kind. 
Perhaps you may be able to employ me in your own 
family ; if so, do not hesitate because of my feelings. 

I assure you, I have no foolish sensitiveness. 

“ My fifty years in the world have taught me that 
honest work is always respectable, no matter what 
it may be, nor how sneered at by thoughtless people. 

I can work as you know ; do all kinds of housework, 
plain sewing, plain cooking, and I flatter myself from 
my fondness for children, tliat I might even make a 
good nurse. My education of course, is too plain to 
be of much help to your children in that respect, but 
I could help to educate them morally. I know 
something of your wife, and I do not forget that the 
only time she ever saw me she did not seem to be 


224 ^ om VALRO U8 DEED, AND V^HAT GAME OF IT. 


pleased with me, and that she took no pains to hide 
her displeasure. 

“ Time, however, may have softened her feelings 
and more especially now, when she finds that it is a 
poor, needy, old woman, willing to work for her 
bread, who makes this appeal. 

“ Let me have an answer as soon as possible. 

'' Your affectionate aunt, 

“Rebecca Luxor.’’ 

That letter to Mr. Blun’s mind, was a settlement 
of the difficulty of getting another nurse for the 
children. Since Miss Luxor had no feeling about the 
kind of work she did, she could take at once the 
situation, and Mrs. Blun could not say anything 
against that. Before answering the letter, however, 
he took it home and read it to his wife. 

“I won’t have her,” she said at once, feeling in her 
inmost soul that Miss Luxor being Mr. Blun’s own 
aunt, would become a sort of spy in the household. 

“Then, Mrs. Blun, I, feeling it to be my duty to 
assist this needy old woman, shall send to her every 
month the wages I have been paying to a nurse, and 
you, Mrs. Blun, shall take the nurse’s place your- 
self.” 

Mrs. Blun began to reflect. She knew that her 
husband would keep his word and for her to have the 
care and annoyance of the children, was not to be 
thought of. Then, if Miss Luxor came, she probably 
would be worried out of the situation as the other 
nurses had been, or perhaps, being Mr. Blun’s aunt, 
the utter want of order in the family would disgust 
her. So, Mrs. Blun changed her mind about Miss 
Luxor, and so informed her husband. He wrote at 
once to his aunt, and the very day that Maggie went, 
Miss Luxor came. 

Miss Luxor was not much taller than Helen, and she 
was very slight, and very straight. Her dress, though 
it was summer time, was of woolen goods, the pattern 


A GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WRA T CAME OF IT. 225 

being a very large brown fig leaf on a black ground. 
Around her wrinkled neck she wore a broad band of 
black velvet fastened at the throat with a big silver 
pin. Her gray hair was thick on her head, but too 
short to make more than a very little coil at the back, 
and it was drawn so high, it stood up like a topknot, 
with all sorts of littleshort hairs sticking out from it. 
She wore spectacles, and she had many wrinkles, but 
she had also a most kindly expression, and a very 
cheerful manner. 

To Mrs. Blun’s disgust, this little, queerly dressed 
woman seemed to win the children at once. 

One small old-fashioned box bound with iron came 
with her, and that held all she owned. 

As it was about noon when she arrived, Mr. Blun 
was not thereto welcome her, and Mrs. Blun was not 
at all warm in her welcome ; but Miss Luxor did not 
seem to mind that. She tried at once to make friends 
with the children, none of whom had ever seen her 
before. 

After luncheon Mrs. Blun took her to the nursery, 
the children remaining in the dining room to tell 
what they thought to each other. 

“ She’s jolly nice,” said Arden. 

“ 1 like her a heap better’ n than Maggie, or Annie, 
or Julia, or Ellen, or Catharine,” said Walter. 

And she’s our aunt,” said Susie, papa said so 
last night when lie told us she was coming to-daj^” 
Yes ; so he did ; Aunt Rebecca,” said Walter. 

“ Aunt Rebecca !” repeated Helen coutempt- 
uousl 3 % and giving her head a little toss, the 
idea of calling the nurse. Aunt Rebecca ; mamma 
says it would be ridiculous, and I think so too : I’ll 
just call her Rebecca.” 

‘You proud thing,” said Walter, “ isn’ t an aunt, 
an aunt, if she is a nurse? Fm going to call her 
Aunt Rebecca. Won’t you Arden ?” 

Of course I shall,” said Arden manfully, “And 
you will too, Susie, won’t you?” said Walter to his 
six year old sister. 


226 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


“ I don’t know,” said Susie doubtfully, “ I guess 
I’ll do like Helen.” 

“You will, will you?” said Walter, feeling that 
it was Susie’s duty to accede to his wishes rather 
than to Helen’s, and to make her perform her duty 
he began to pinch and slap her. Susie screamed to 
Helen for help, Arden ran to assist Walter, and 
Lulu toddled to lend her little aid to her sisters. 
Thus there was another fight among the children, 
the third that day, and as it was going on in the 
dining room Jane had to interfere lest the dishes on 
the table should be broken. 

When Mr. Blun came home that evening, he set- 
tled the vexed question — without hearing how the 
children had discussed it,— by saying to his wife : 

“ Of course, Mrs. Blun, you introduced all the 
children to their Aunt Rebecca ?” 

Miss Luxor being present, Mrs. Blun said nothing, 
and her husband took her silence as assen t. Neither 
did Miss Luxor say anything, but Walter remarked 
boldly : 

“ I told them all, papa, that if she was our nurse 
she was our aunt, too, and that we must all call her 
Aunt Rebecca.” 

Aunt Rebecca gave the boy a smile that went to 
his little heart, and then his father delighted him 
by saying : 

“ That’s right my boy, and such a speech shows 
your self discipline is as it should be.” 

Mrs. Blun felt as if she could have throttled the boy. 

Days passed and Miss Luxor did not become dis- 
gusted as Mrs. Blun had supposed ; on the contrary 
she seemed to get on better and better with the 
children. There were fewer quarrels among them, 
and Jane said to the cook that the little, old-fash- 
ioned body was the best nurse the Blun family ever 
had. Both Jane and the cook were aware that the 
nurse was Mr. Blun’s aunt, Mr. Blun himself hav- 
ing told them, but Miss Luxor never presumed on 


A CHIVALROUS DHJED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT 227 

her relationship, nor did she in Mrs. Blnn’s presence 
ever show that she thought herself anything more 
chan the nurse for the children. Mrs. Blun always 
acted in a manner to show that she thought Miss 
L’lxor was Rebecca, the servant and nothing more. 
Helen, following her mother’s example, did the same, 
though in lier father’s presence she had to be very 
careful never to omit the prefix Aunt, when she 
mentioned Miss Luxor’s name ; and as felen, hav- 
ing a room to herself, was not obliged to be so much 
with the nurse, she did not, unfortunately for her- 
self, come so much under the nurse’s infiuence. 

The other children had grown quickly to like the 
new comer ; she told them quaint, simple stories that 
charmed them, she taught them games to take the 
place of their mischievous pranks, and when they 
did anything wrong, instead of impatiently scolding 
and punishing them to the limit of her authority, 
or threatening to tell their father, she had a way of 
reasoning with them, and putting them on their 
honor for future good conduct, that seemed to be 
wonderfully successful. She even rom])ed with 
them at times, when there was no fear of disturbing 
any one, and she knew how to make and mend kites, 
to compel tops to spin at the very first go, to bat a 
ball without ever missing it, to cut out paper men 
and women in such a way that they would stand up 
wherever you put them, to make cat’s cradles, tie 
sailor knots, make imitation dogs and cats and rab- 
bits, and altogether, she seeped to be able to do so 
many things, that Arden said to her one day in his 
delighted admiration. 

‘‘Aunt Rebecca, was you ever a boy 
“ No, dear she answered laughing in the hearty 
way that never failed to set the children laughing also. 
“ I never was a boy.” 

“Well ; who teached you, then, to do all the things 
like the boys does ’em f ’ 

Having smilingly corrected the boy’s mistakes in 
grammar, she went on to tell them that for many 


228 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT 


years, she had lived in the house with five little boys 
and three little girls, and Irom them she had learned 
many of the things she did for the Bluns. 

As the weeks wore on Mrs. Blun was not unCom 
scious of the wonderful infiuence of the nurse over 
the children, except Helen, even to the fact of win- 
ning their affection. Walter would have fought 
anybody who dared to say a word against the nurse, 
and in his presence even his mother had to be care- 
ful how she spoke of Miss Luxor, and Helen did 
not dare to make fun of her aunt’s old fashioned 
dress. This wonderful influence saved Mrs. Blun a 
great deal of trouble and annoyance ; it also gave 
her much more time for her dress, her visits, and 
her novel reading, and so long as Miss Luxor did not 
meddle with Mrs. Blun’s affairs, Mrs. Blun did not 
object to her presence in the house. 

She soon found out another advantage of Miss 
Luxor’ s presence in the house, for that lady, without 
being asked, spent her leisure during the day, and 
sometimes even took hours from the night, to mend, 
or turn, and even to make garments for the children. 

Such economy — Mrs. Blun took care not to inform 
her husband of it, and Aunt Rebecca did not seem 
to think it worth speaking about — enabled Mrs. Blun 
to put more money into her private purse, but for all 
that not a word of praise, or even of kindness did 
she speak of the nurse. 

Mr. Blun also, could not help noting the good ef- 
fect of Aunt Rebecca’ infiuence, though he had 
much less opportunity of seeing it, and he said that 
it was owing to her being a woman of discipline. 

‘‘A woman of discipline,” mocked Mrs. Blun, 
“it is owing to her being a woman of want. She 
has a good home here, and she knows it, and of 
course she’s doing all she can to keep it.” 

Mr. Blun repeated : 

“ I tell you, Mrs. Blun. it is because she is a 
woman of discipline,” and then being near the door 
3ie hurried QUt so that she could not contradict him. 


A cm VALRO US DBBD, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 229 


CHAPTER XXL 

The vacation seemed to begin well for Lizzie Mor- 
rell. Her uncle was so much better that, with the 
help of a cane he could walk a little about the room, 
and owing to the care with which Lizzie kept her 
promise to try to bear with Mrs. Morrell, there were 
fewer unpleasant scenes in the house. 

The vacation pleasures that Lizzie looked forward 
to, were the reading of fairy tales to Dad, making 
her sketches, and going often to the window of a 
picture gallery on Broadway ; the engraving of an 
infant’s head was in the window and Lizzie was try- 
ing to copy it. 

In order to keep Mrs. Morrell in good temper, 
Lizzie, without waiting to be told to do so, helped 
to sweep, and dust, and wash dishes, and she went 
on errands so quickly that Thimig catching a sight 
of her sometimes, said to himself on one occasion : 

She’s just like one of them ere fairy tilings a fel- 
low reads about, only I don’t know as any fairy ’d 
have such eyes.” 

This voluntary help witli the housework, left Mrs. 
Morrell nothing to scold about, except that Barthol- 
omew should let Lizzie read such stuff to him, and 
gallivant the streets, as Mrs. Morrell called Lizzie’s 
visits to the window of the picture gallery. 

Mrs. Morrell hei'self often ‘‘ gallivnnted,” the 
streets and for the purpose of looking into shop win- 
dows, but, shesaid the windows she looked into held 


230 ^ GIIIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


sensible things such as the fashions, and not the tom- 
foolery of pictures that Lizzie wasted her time gaz- 
ing at. 

But Mrs. Morrell bore even with that till two weeks 
of the vacation had passed, and she saw Lizzie get- 
ting ready to go out one afternoon ; then she said : 

‘‘It would be a good deal better Lizzie, for you to 
take the needle in your hand than be going out like 
this every day. Your uncle is a very foolish man to 
let you do it.’’ 

“ He isn’ t,” burst from Lizzie, and then vexed with 
herself for having said even that much, she hurried 
out of the house. 

It seemed the Ijarder that Mrs. Morrell should have 
spoken so now, when her copy of the engraving in 
the window was nearly done. An hour’s work would 
tinish it, and she was going to the window of the 
gallery this afternoon in order to fix the picture still 
better in her mind. 

When she reached the window and had almost 
glued her face against it so as to get the very closest 
look, she saw all at once a sign hung just above it, 
which said : 

“Lessons given in crayon drawing ; inquire in the 
gallery.” 

Quick as a fiash she turned about and fled home- 
ward. Did not her uncle say she should have such 
lessons, and here was a place where she could get 
them, and the place where she had seen so many 
beautiful pictures in the window. 

As she turned a corner of one of the streets near 
her home, she saw at some distance a little girl com- 
ing towards her and carrying a large, and seemingly 
heavy clothes basket. 

It must be heavy, Lizzie thought, for the little girl 
stopped often and put the basket down to rest her- 
self. 

Lizzie pitied the little girl, and forgetting howanx- 
ous she had been to get home quickly, she ran to 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF 11. 231 


help her, finding with surprise that it was Nanny 
Tavisli. 

“Nanny,” she said when she reached her, “I 
didn’t, dream it was you.” 

Nanny had put the basket down again, this time 
on one of the steps of a house, and she sat down be- 
side it as if she had no more strength to go on. Her 
face was very pale and it had a look of pain and sad- 
ness that went to Lizzie’s heart. 

“Is anything the matter?” Lizzie asked, sitting 
down beside Nanny. 

“ Yes , my mother is sick,” and Nanny looked as 
if she wanted very much to cry but by a great effort 
kept herself from doing so. 

“ And you had to bring these clothes home ?” said 
Lizzie, “ well, I’ll help you to carry them ; they are 
too heavy for you.” 

She jumped up and took the basket as if she 
meant to carry it all by herself. 

Nanny also jumped up ; Lizzie’s kind offer seemed 
all at once to liave made her strong again. 

“ I am much obliged,” she said, her face getting 
red, “ but I am rested now, and I can carry it.” 

“ Well, I’m going to help you,” said Lizzie again 
catching the basket in such a manner that most of its 
weight must fall upon herself, and Nanny feeling 
much relieved and very thankful said nothing more. 
But, as they walked quietly along with the basket 
between them, she thought she ought to talk a little 
to Lizzie — Lizzie’s natural delicacy kept her from 
asking even where they were going, though from tlie 
direction they were taking she thought it might be to 
Helen Blun’s house — so Nanny said : 

“ My motlier has a very bad sore on her back, and 
it’s made her so sick she isn’t able to do anything 
at all to-day. If slie hadn’t ironed these clothes 
yesterday, I don’t know what she’d have done. And 
she promised to bring them home to-day, but of 
course, sha couldn’t, and there wasn’t anybody to 


232 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


send but me. She didn’t think I’d be able to carry 
them but I coaxed her to let me try, because — be- 
cause — ” she stopped, feeling too proud to go on, 
but after a moment, she said bravely : ‘'because 
we need the money that’s to be paid for them, and 
I shall tell my mother how kind you were, Lizzie to 
help me.” 

Oh, that isn’t anything,” said Lizzie quickly. 

They were turning into the handsome street where 
Helen Blun lived, and there stood Helen herself 
with three other little girls directly in the way of 
Nanny and Lizzie. The girls were some of Helen’s 
little neighbors who went to private schools, and so 
they did not know any of Helen’s school-mates. 

They stepped aside to let the two girls jiass, look- 
ing at them with much curiosity and a feeling of great 
superiority. Helen looked as if Nanny and Lizzie 
were as much strangers to her as they were to her 
companions, and Nanny seeing that, gave no sign 
that she knew Helen. 

Lizzie, however, could not follow Nanny’s exam- 
ple, and she said wickedly. 

“ Don’t you know us in vacation, Helen f ’ 

“ Who are they ?” asked a couple of the little 
private school girls both speaking at the same time. 
Helen, angry and ashamed said loud enough for 
Nanny and Lizzie to hear : 

“ One of them, the one on this side is our washer- 
woman’s daughter.” 

Lizzie turned shortly bringing Nanny to a sudden 
stop as she did so, and flung back. 

“ Why don’t you siiy too, that your washerwom- 
an’s daughter is the smartest girl in your class, and 
that she did a heap better than you did, examina- 
tion day ? why don’t you say that, Helen Blun 

Helen retreated to an area, saying angrily to her 
companions who followed her, that Lizzie Morrell 
was the worst girl in the whole school, and that was 
the reason she didn’ t notice h^r ; her mamma wanted 
her never to nqtige sqch girls. 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 333 

‘‘ And the other girl asked one of Helen’s com- 
panions, ‘‘ is she a bad girl, too you acted as if you 
never saw her before.’’ 

“No ; she isn’t as bad as Lizzie Morrell, but she’s 
only the washerwoman’s daughter, and my mamma 
doesn’t want me to notice anybody like that; she 
isn’t my equal.” 

“ But she’s in your class in school,” said the little 
girl again, “and that other little girl said she was 
the smartest one in your class.” 

“ Do you believe what that other girl says after 
what I told you ; I told you Lizzie Morrell was the 
worst girl in the whole school. Our teacher had to 
punish her every day.” 

“ Well,” said another of Helen’s companions, 
“I’m glad 7 don’t go to a public school ; you have 
to be in the same class with all sorts of poor chil- 
dren there.” 

Helen turned very red, not knowing how to answer 
that, and Just then one of the girls who had gone 
out to the walk to look after the two with the basket, 
said quickly : 

“ Come here, Helen Blnn ; your washerwoman’s 
daughter is talking to a lady in front of your house. 
Who is she ?” 

Helen hurried from the area, and saw Misslngolds- 
by talking to Nanny. Lizzie, finding tliat the basket 
would remain without any help from heron the step 
where she and Nanny had placed it when they met 
the lady, went away almost to the curb, feeling with 
her instinctive sense of delicacy, that it would not be 
good manners to stay where she could hear what the 
lady said. 

Miss Ingoldsby had come from Newport two days 
before with both of her brothers in order to look at 
a house that Egbert wanted to buy, and Egbert had 
said that Cornelia should remain in the cit^^ long 
enough to make a visit to the Bluns ; also, that 
she should make the visit alone, for in that way 


234 ^ CEIVALRO OS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


she might be able to talk more freely to Mrs. 
Blun. 

Edwin was very angry at the proposal, but he did 
not dare to show his feelings only to Cornelia, and 
he scolded her till she was miserable. Thinking oi 
that, and thinking also how Edwin’s parting words to 
her, as she was leaving the hotel to go to Mr. Blnn’s 
house, were to be very careful and have no Tavisli 
business with the Blun girl, it was annoying to meet 
Nanny. In her mingled astonishment, fear, and an- 
noyance, she hardly saw Lizzie Morrell. 

‘•Nanny Tavish,” she said, “ is it possible !” and 
then her naturally kind heart led her to put out her 
hand. 

But Nanny, remembering Miss Ingoldsby’s treat- 
ment the last time they met, gave her hand very un- 
willingly, and she did not seem at all glad to meet 
the lady. 

Miss Ingoldsby felt it, and she flushed, but she 
said again very kindly : 

“Are these clothes for this house? does your 
mother wash for Mrs. Blun ?” 

“ Yes replied Nannj^ 

“ How is your mother ?” 

“ She is sick,” replied Nanny briefly, as if she re- 
sented the asking of such questions. 

But Miss Ingoldsby said more kindly than ever : 

“Sick; my poor little girl! how sorry I am for 
you both. She is not very sick, I hope. I wish I 
could go to see her, but since I cannot, you must 
take this to her,” opening her portmonnaie and tak- 
ing out a bill. 

“Please ma’am, I can’t take it.” The decision 
in the child’s voice astonished the lady, and for a 
second she looked as if she did not know what to do 
with the bill : then, she tried to force the money in- 
to Nanny’s hand, saying : 

“You must take it ; it is for your mother.” 

But Nanny shut her hand tightly against the 


A CHIVALRO US DEED A ND WHA T GAME OF IT. 235 

money and she drew her little figure up while she 
said just as she did before : 

Please ma’am ; I can’t take it.” 

Miss Ingoldsby felt almost angry. She said 
shortly : 

•^Very well,” and then putting tlie bill back in 
her pocket-book, she went up the steps and rang the 
bell without again looking at Nanny. 

Nanny took up her basket and went to the base- 
ment door. 

Mrs. Blun was very muck surprised to see Miss 
Ingoldsby, but she was also very much delighted. 
Such a visit seemed to be a sure sign that she would be 
invited to a party by Miss Ingoldsby, when the family 
came to town. 

Miss Ingoldsby explained at once that her visit 
must be brief, and she asked to see the children. 
That request disappointed Mrs. Blun, for having the 
young lady all to herself she was eager to ask many 
questions about society, but, she rang for Rebecca to 
bring the children. to the parlor, and while waiting 
for them she tried to improve the opportunity by 
asking Miss Ingoldsby about Newport, the people 
who went to Newport, and the parties Miss Ingolds- 
by’ s family would be likely to give during the win- 
ter. 

But the young lady said very little more than, 
“yes,” and “no,” and she looked all the time, as 
if she were thinking of something very different. 
She was thinking of 'Nanny Tavish and her annoy- 
ance at having met the child she felt angry with 
everybody, herself and Mrs. Blun included. It was 
only when Miss Luxor and the children came in, 
that she seemed to get control of her feelings. 

The little, odd, old-fashioned nurse had on the 
same dress with the big fig leaf pattern that she had 
worn on the day of her arrival. To Miss Ingoldsby 
it looked as ancient as the brocaded wedding dress 
of her great grandmother which was kept in a glass 


236 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


case and had come down to the young lady as one 
of her mother’s family heir looms. 

The same broad band of black velvet fastened with 
the silver j)in was round the nurse’s neck, and her 
gray hair was twisted into the same little comical 
looking topknot. She stood at a little distance while 
Miss Ingoldsby was greeting the children, and as she 
saw how delighted they all were to see the visitor, her 
own face beamed with pleasure. 

Mrs. Blun took no notice of the nurse. She was 
not going to tell Miss Ingoldsby that she was Mr. 
Blim’s aunt. 

But Mrs. Blun had made a wrong reckoning, for 
Walter pulled the nurse forward, saying : 

“ Here’s Aunt Rebecca., Miss Ingoldsby ; that is 
she’s papa’s aunt, and then of course, she’s our aunt. 
Papa says so, and she’s a jolly good aunt. ” 

Aunt Rebecca getting a little red under her 
wrinkles, madean old-fashioned courtesy, and smiled 
so much she showed both rows of her strong, white, 
carefully kept teeth. The smile, and the gentle, kind 
expression in the large eyes looking over the heavy 
framed spectacles, pleased Miss Ingoldsby, and she 
bowed and smiled also. 

Mrs. Blun made up her mind that the next time 
she sent for the children to come to the i)arlor, either 
Walter, or Aunt Rebecca should stay behind. 

Miss Ingoldsby asked for Helen, but before 
Helen’s mother could answer, Walter said : 

‘‘ Helen’s out : she doesn’ t play with us any moi e. 
She says we aint no fit company for her because 
we call our nurse, aunt. ” 

‘‘Walter !” almost shrieked Mrs. Blun, both angry 
and ashamed, while Miss Ingoldsby feeling that her 
departure just then would be a relief to both ladies, 
rose, gracefully excusing herself, and took her leave. 

Helen, having looked after both Miss Ingoldsby 
and Nanny till Miss Ingoldsby had gone up the steps, 
and Nanny had gone into the area, made up her mind 


A cm VALRO ns DBED, WHA T GAMn OF IT. 237 


not to return to tlie house till the lady had gone. 

Sh6 was astonished that Miss Ingoldsby should 
know Nanny, and it made her feel uncomfortable ; 
thinking Nanny was like herself, she was afraid of 
the things Nanny might say about her, and lest some 
one should be sent into the street to look for her, 
she coaxed her companions to take a long walk. 

Miss Ingoldsby went down the steps of Mr. Blun's 
house feeling very much dissatisfied with herself. 
She looked about her and even peered sharply into 
the basement area as if with some hope or thought 
of again seeing Nanny Tavish ; Nanny’s comx^anion 
she had quite forgotten. She had not asked Mrs. 
Blun anything about Mrs. Tavish, lest in some way 
she might betray her own interest in Mrs. Tavish’ s 
child, and that would be breaking her promise to 
Edwin ; but, she felt more than usually vexed that 
Edwin should require from her the promises he did, 
and she was angry with herself that she did not 
have the courage to rebel. She was also angry at 
the proud way Nanny bad acted, and yet that very 
pride made her feel more interest in the child. 
How she wished that Egbert had been with her ; 
then, without any fault on her part, he would have 
seen Nanny, and if he should become interested, 
Edwin would be unable to help it. But, since Mrs. 
Tavish worked for the Bluns, and Egbert meant to 
continue his visits to the Bluns, might he not meet 
Nanny some Lime % That thought comforted her, 
and she made up her mind not to tell Edwin that 
she had met Nanny, nor, that Nanny’s mother 
worked for Mrs. Blun. She also resolved to send to 
Mrs. Tavish in a letter the bill Nanny had refused. 


;;)38 ^ CUIVALUOUSUBJCD, AND WHAl CAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

Nanny was surprised when she came out with the 
empty basket to find Lizzie waiting for her. 

‘‘I thought maybe, you'd have other clothes to 
take back, and I could help you carry them,” Lizzie 
said half in apology. 

“How kind you are, Lizzie,” and that was all 
Nanny could say for she was crying. 

Lizzie took the basket on her own arm and put her 
other arm around Nanny’s shoulders, but she did 
not speak ; she did not know what to say : but the 
tenderness of the action went to Nanny’s soul as 
perhaps no words would have done. She was crying 
from the disappointment of nor having received any 
money to bring to her mother, Mrs. Blun having sent 
word by Jane that she had no time to attend to the 
bill then ; Mrs. Tavish must wait till the following 
week. 

Nanny, thinking how distressed her mother would 
be at her return without any money, began to regret 
that she had not taken Miss Ingold sby’s bill. 

“I needn’t have been so proud,” she said to her- 
self, “ but it seemed just like being a beggar the way 
she held it out to me,” and then she went on crying 
quietly, till Lizzie in her pity said softly : 

“Can’t I do something to make you feel better, 
Nanny ?” 

“It’s them,” burst from Nanny, “the Bluns : 
Mrs. Blun told the girl to tell me she couldn’t pay 


A GHIVALRO US DEED, AUD WHAT GAME OF IT. 239 

the bill till next week — and she’s rich — I hate those 
rich people — don’t you f’ 

But the very next moment she was half frightened 
and sorry for having spoken so. 

‘‘ I don’ t mean that, Lizzie ; I don’ t hate them, but 
r think they’re just as mean as dirt,” kicking the 
dirt at her feet to give force to what she said. 

They’re as mean as mud,” said Lizzie. 

Nanny was silent for a moment, she felt too mis- 
erable to care to speak, and she did not notice that 
Lizzie was going out of her way till they got within 
a block of Nanny’s home. Then, she said with a 
start : 

I am so sorry ; I didn’t think, and I’ve let you 
carry the basket the whole way, How mean I’ve been 
and how can I thank you 

“You haven’t been mean at all; I was glad to 
carr^T- the basket for you, you seemed so sad,” said 
Lizzie generously, “but I must run home, now, for 
my uncle may want me.” 

And giving up the basket she turned and ran down 
the street. One cause of her going so fast was to get 
away from Nanny’s thanks, but another reason was 
she had thought of a plan to help Nanny’s mother, 
and she wanted to tell it to her uncle. 

When she had done so, showing in the telling more 
of her generous heart than even he had seen before, 
he felt, “ that of such indeed were the kingdom of 
Heaven.” 

Her plan was to give to Mrs. Tavish the money that 
the lessons in drawing would cost, and her only 
thought was how to give it, so that Nanny and her 
mother should not know who gave it ; then their feel- 
ings would not be hurt. 

Dad took out his pocket book ; fortunately his 
wife was out on one of her afternoon excursions, so 
she need know nothing of this little occurrence. 

“Maybe,” he said, “ you won’t have to do without 
the drawing lessons,” taking a five dollar gold piece 


240 A GJllVALliO Us DEED, AND WHAT CAME OE IT. 


from his pocket book, “ anyway you can go to-mor- 
row, Lizzie, and find out what they’ll charge for tiie 
lessons ; and you can run with this now, to that poor 
little girl.” 

“Oh, I couldn’ t do that, Bad ; that would be treat- 
ing her like a beggar, and maybe she won’ t take it if 
she knows who is giving it.” 

“ Well, what will yon do, then?” said Bad puz- 
zled. 

“ I’ll tell you,” said Lizzie, who had been thinking 
very hard. 

“I’ll ask Oleander Thimig to take it. Nanny Tav- 
ish never saw him, and he never saw her. I’ll tell 
him to say that a friend sent it, and that he can’t an- 
swer any questions.” 

Mr. Morrell laughed. 

“ He is so stupid, Lizzie ; like as not he’ll say what 
you don’t want him to.” 

“ No, he won’ t. I’ 11 make him stud y what he’ s to 
say, and he’ll be glad to do something for me. He 
told me so the other day.” 

“Very well; then you’d better see him now, for 
there’s no telling when Maria ’ll be back, and she’ll 
want to know what you are going out again for.” 

Thimig was alone in the shop trimming a child’s 
coffin when Lizzie got there. 

“Come in, Lizzie,” he said, stopping his work, and 
looking as delighted as tliough she had brought him 
some good news. 

Lizzie stepped within. 

“You aint come ’bout anybody that’s dead, are 
you ?” he asked, and then as if he felt that he should 
not have said that, he added quickly : 

“You see, you don’t come into the shop to play 
anymore ; why, there usen’t to be a coffin here as 
didn’t know you, Lizzie ; you used to get into all of 
’em in turn, but now, they stands up stiff and straight 
against the wall with nobody to notice ’em, and just 
a waitin’ for the stiffs that’s to go into ’em. And 


A GBIVALRO US DEBD, ABD WHA T CAME OF II . 241 


trade aint good this summer ; last summer we used 
to have live cases a day sometimes, but this summer 
it’s very disappointing— only a child this whole day,” 
and the family said they could saltpetre its face and 
save the cost of ice.” 

Lizzie waiting for a chance to speak lost her 
patience. 

“I didn’t come in here to talk about coffins, or 
dead people,” she said, “ I came in to ask you to do 
something for me, Oleander.” 

“ What is it Lizzie ? I’ll do anything for you that 
this ere pair of hands can do.” 

“ It isn’t your hands this time,” she said laughing, 
“ it’s your feet. I want you to take this somewhere,” 
holding up a tiny paper package, “ and you are not 
to say a thing onlj^ what I tell you to say.” 

Oleander looked grave. When it was a question 
of delivering important messages he knew himself he 
was not much to be trusted ; everybody about him 
knew that, and few and far between were the messa- 
ges he was ever asked to deliver. But he would do 
his very best for Lizzie, and so he told her, adding, 
that he could not go for a half hour, till Mr. Brush 
came. 

“That will do,” said Lizzie, then having told 
him where Nanny lived, she went on : 

“ You ask for Mrs. Tavish, Oleander, and you say 
to her that a friend of hers sent you with this little 
package. It’s money ; it’s a five dollar gold piece,” 
putting the parcel into his hand, “and if she asks 
who the friend is, or who gave it to you, you say 
that you can’t answer any questions. Now, that’s 
easy ; aint it, Oleander ?” 

Oleander placing the parcel in an inside pocket, 
nodded. But Lizzie was not satisfied with that. 

“Tell me what you are going to say,” she de- 
manded. 

He seated himself on one of the coffin-stools the 
better to be able to bring his whole mind to the sub- 


242 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

ject ; then, spreading his big red hands on his knees, 
and looking very solemnly into her face, he began : 

“ ril give this ere parcel to the woman wot you 
calls Mrs. Tavish, and I’ll tell thatTavish woman a 
friend of her’n sent it, and that it’s agin the law for 
me to answer any questions whatsomever — that’s 
straight, aint it ? ” 

‘^Yes;Iguess that’s straight enough,” said Liz- 
zie laughing, ‘‘and to-morrow, sometime. I’ll run in 
and hear how you got along. And I’m very much 
obliged, Oleander ; sometime perhaps, I can do 
something for you.” 

With the last word she darted from the shop leav- 
ing Thimig with his mouth open about to speak. 
He was so astonished at her sudden departure that 
his mouth remained open for a moment ; then, as 
he rose slowly from the stool, and went as slowly 
back to his work, he said to himself : 

“ She’s as oncertain as a streak o’ lightnin’, dar- 
tin’ down on you when you’re no ways expectin’ 
her, and flyin’ off when you’re settled down to the 
feelin’ that you have her. But that’s the way girls 
is, generally, girls as has them flamin’ eyes wot 
she’s got.” 


A Cmt^AZHOaS deed, and what came of it. 243 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Mrs. Tayish was both ill and in pain ; the sore on 
her back was a large abscess, and she had borne with 
it trying to work and saying little about the pain till 
she could not help herself. Not being able to lie 
down she was seated in the middle of the room. 

Nanny had tried to make the hard wooden chair 
more comfortable by placing a pillow on it, but even 
then, Mrs. Tavish had to stoop forward all the time, 
and the pain often made her groan. 

When Nanny returned and told her mother with 
tears and sobs all that had happened, Mrs. Tavish 
had so many other feelings to struggle against, she 
almost forgot the pain of her back. 

To have the payment of her little bill put off till' 
the following week with only ten cents in the house, 
and nowhere else to look for money, seemed cruel, 
but with all that she had a sort of thankfulness that 
Nanny had not taken Miss Ingoldsby’s money. 
Money from the Ingoldsbys when she earned it 
was well enough, but money from them in any other 
way made her cheeks burn. 

“But I wish I had taken it,” said Nanny, “it 
would have made up for Mrs. Blun’s not paying.” 

“ Don't w'orry about it now, darling.” 

“But what will you do, mamma ? You said we had 
only ten cents.” 

“Well, we shan’t starve, dear,” trying to smile 
cheerfully, “ the grocer will trust us till I’m able to 


244 ^ CBIVALBO tJS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OS' if. 

work again, and God will help us, and I hope He 
will reward that kind little Lizzie Morrell.” Not a 
word did she say against Mrs. Blun at which Nanny 
wondered, and that gentle forebearance on the part 
of Mrs. Tavish was not without its influence on the 
child’s own character. 

The darts of violent pain were making themselves 
felt again, and Nanny, hearing her mother’s half 
suppressed groan, started up, saying : 

“Oh, mamma ; I can’t see you suffer so ; I’m go- 
ing to call some one in the house to help me do some- 
thing for you.” 

Her mother caught her. “Don’t dear; they all 
have so much to do for their own families, but take 
the ten cents and get a half pound of flax seed, and 
I’ll tell you how to make a poultice for me.” 

The hope of being able to relieve her mother’s pain 
made Nanny do her errand very quickly, but when, 
under her mother’s direction she had "the poultice 
ready she could hardly bring herself to put it on, for 
the abscess looked so red and sore. More than once 
Nanny shuddered and turned her head aside but she 
did not let her mother know how she felt, and at 
length she j)ut it on so gently and so well, Mrs. Tav- 
ish said she felt better already, and that Nanny was 
one of the dearest little nurses in the world. 

An hour after they were both somewhat startled by 
a very loud knock at the door. Nanny opened it. 
A large, awkward looking boy stood there, holding 
a parcel in his hand ; tlie parcel had grown so much 
larger by having the whole of two large newspapers 
wrapped round it to keep it more safely, that Lizzie 
never would have known it as the tiny package she 
had made. 

The boy took off his cap showing a mass of stiff, 
coarse, light hair, and his big, stupid looking eyes 
went from Nanny to the bowed figure in the chair, 
and then to everything in the room, but he did not 
speak. Nanny, thinking he was looking for some- 


A CHIVALRO VS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 245 

body else in the house, and becoming impatient at 
being kept from her mother, said shortly . 

‘‘What do you want?” 

Thimig nodded his head gravely, and said : 

“ I’m a coming to it.” 

Nanny did not know what to make of such an an- 
swer, and had she been alone she might have been 
frightened. Her mother called from her chair : 

‘‘ What is it ?” 

“ It’s a message wot has to be given to a woman 
wot bears the name of Tavish, and no questions an- 
swered,” replied Thimig, and then he stepped wholly 
within the room. 

“ That’s my mother’s name,” said Nanny in some 
doubt as to the saftey of her mother and herself if 
he got any further. But Thimig felt he would not 
be obeying orders if he said any more to the child, 
so he went and stood by Mrs. Tavish’ s chair ; then, 
not knowing quite what to say, he said nothing. 

Mrs. Tavish wondering very much, said : 

“ I am Mrs. Tavish, what is it you want with 
me ?” 

“You’re to get this,” holding out a parcel, “a 
friend o’ your’n sent it, and no questions answered. 

“That’s strange,” said Mrs. Tavish, “I don’t 
know what friend would send me anything. Open 
it, Nanny.” 

“You needn’t open it,” said Thimig, “ it’s money, 
least she said it was money — a five dollar gold 
piece.” 

“A five dollar gold piece in that big package,” 
said Mrs. Tavish, “ and sent by a lady — you say 
said it was money.” 

“ Oh, Lor !” said Thimig, feeling that he had told 
something without any questions being asked, and 
to atone for his blunder, he went on. 

“It was a party wot said that, a party wot said no 
questions answered, and there aint no law in this 
ere land as’ 11 make me answer questions.” 


246 ^ OHl VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 


Nanny had begun to open the package, taking 
off so much newspaper that she said : 

“ Oh, mamma ! it doesn’t seem like anything but 
paper.” 

Thimig felt as if that were a charge against him, 
and he hastened to say : 

“ Them ere newspapers was tied by me, cause you 
see, when the party left wot give me the parcel and 
no questions answered, I was afraid it might drop 
out of my pocket. You just go deeper, little ’un and 
you’ll find there’s somethin' as isn’t paper wot that 
party left.” 

And then, lest he should make another blunder, 
he bolted from the room : they could hear him run- 
ning through the hall. 

What a funny boy,” said Nanny, too much in- 
terested in getting to the contents of the package, to 
look after him. At length she found the gold piece. 

‘‘Oh, mamma !” she said joyfully, “it is money. 
You said God would help us.” 

“And so He has, dear,” her mother answered. 
She did not say what she thought, that it was Miss 
Ingoldsby who had sent the money. And though it 
was most timely help, Mrs. Tavish hardly knew 
whether to be glad or not ; there might be future 
sadness to herself from that gift of the Ingoldsbys. 

It never came into Nanny’s mind that Miss In- 
goldsby had sent the money, and she tired herself 
trying to think who was the giver. 

Thimig on his homeward way felt very much 
troubled lest Lizzie should find out how he in giving 
her message had said “she.” In that case, Lizzie 
would never care for him again, and now, just as they 
had become good friends again, it was too bad. 

“ What did I say that for?” he said to himself, 
“ there wasn’t no reason why I should have gone 
and put a she in it ; there aint no luck in shes ; 
there always gettin’ fellows in trouble,” and just 
then, having his big eyes turned on the ground in- 


4 CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 247 

stead of in front of him, lie struck violently against 
one of the “ she's.” 

And the ‘‘she” was Mrs. Morrell, and her arms 
were full of packages ; for she had been shopping. 
She had seen Thimig when he was a whole block 
distant and she went toward him on purpose because 
it pleased her to see his fear of her. But she was 
not at all prepared for the shock that sent them both 
violently in opposite directions. Thimig being a 
much smaller body went almost spinningto the gut- 
ter, while Mrs. Morrell brought up breathless against 
the steps of a house. But her breathlessness was 
nothing to his terror when he picked himself up and 
saw whom he had knocked against. 

“Oh, Mrs. Morrell !” he stuttered, “I didn’t know 
as it w^as you — I—” 

But she had got back her breath, and she did not 
let him finish. 

“ Didn’t know it was me you coffin making rascal. 
Didn’t know it was me, and I in front of your two 
eyes ; now, you know, you undertaking vagabond, 
that you’re telling a lie.” 

Passers by hearing her loud voice stopped to lis- 
ten, and a little street chap who had seen and en- 
joyed all that had taken place scrambled after her 
parcels. 

“ Say, Missus,” he said, coming up to her with 
them, “didn’t you drop these ere things ?” 

Without answering him she put out her big hands 
to take them. 

“Oh, no ; yer don’t,” he said drawing back, and 
making fancy steps with his dirty bare feet, “a fel- 
ler don’t pick up things for nothin’ this hot weather. 
You just gimme somethin’. ” 

Looking at his size — he did not seem tall enough 
to reach to Lizzie’s shoulder — his boldness took Mrs. 
Morrell’s angry attention from Thimig. 

“ You ondacious little cur,” she said, making a 
dive for him, “ give me them things this minute,” 


248 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

But the boy was beyond her reach, and making 
more fancy steps, after which lie flung his parcels — 
there were five of them~all over the sidewalk, and 
then putting his thumbs into the sides of his ragged 
jacket, he began to whistle one of the popular street 
tunes. 

That had given Thimig time to recover somewhat 
from his fright, and when he saw the j)arcels a second 
time scattered on the ground, he went meekly and 
picked them up. The street chap seeing that, stopped 
whistling and shouted : 

“ Gether ’em in Shooks! but don’t give ’em to 
the old gal- make her fork out. She’s got the 
jinks.” 

Mrs. Morrell felt as if never had she been so angry 
as she was with that dirty, ragged little impudent 
boy. What Thimig had done was nothing in com- 
parison to the impertinence of this chap, and seeing 
the amusement it gave to the people who had stopped 
to look on, and feeling that it would be useless for 
her to try to catch the little wretch, she screamed to 
Thimig who was looking round to make sure that he 
had recovered all the bundles : 

“Ketch him, Orlander 1 ketch him and hold him 
till I get him.” 

Thimig was overjoyed at being called on to do a 
service for Mrs. Morrell, and a service that seemed 
so easy, for the bo}^ was such a small boy. So he 
dropped the bundles, and rushed for the street chap. 

That daring mite instead of running away actually 
put himself into fighting position, shouting : 

“Come on, Shooks ! don’t be afeerd ; I’ll let yer 
have it easy.” 

The pluck of the little fellow actually squaring 
against a boy three times his size, and surely more 
than twice his age, made the bystanders roar with 
laughter, and whether it was their mirth, or the bold- 
ness of the imp that did it, Thimig stopped short as if 
he were afraid. 


A CBIVALHOirS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 249 


Oh, come on, Shooks ! I aint going to hurt yer 
much,” the imp said, and the tone of his voice was 
so amusing the bystanders roared with laughter 
again, and some of them cheered. 

Mrs. Morrell had picked up her bundles, and see- 
ing how Thimig hesitated, she said : 

“The lout! what is he standing there for? I’ll 
have to ketch the rascal myself, and when I do. I’ll 
wring his neck.” 

The imp saw her coming, and with a shrill whoop 
he darted to a lamp post, climbed it as if be were a 
monkey, and clinging to the top grinned down at 
the crowd, 

Mrs. Morrell shook her fist at him, then she 
turned and took Thimig by the collar. 

“Go home, you coward.” 

Thimig, turning white with fear at this unexpected 
attack, whimpered : 

“I’m a goin,’ Mrs. Morrell, I’m a goin’ home, 
and I was a goin’ peaceable when you knocked 
against me.” 

“I knocked against you? wasn’t it you, you 
buryin’ wretch, that knocked the breath out of 
me ?” 

“ Yes, yes, Mrs. Morrell ; it wos anything you’re 
a mind to say, only let go of me,” and as she still 
held him to the increased amusement of the specta- 
tors, he went on : 

“ When I knocked against you, Mrs. Morrell, I 
didn’t see you, cause I wos a worried ’bout what I 
said when I went on that errand wot Lizzie come in- 
to the coffin shop for.” 

Mrs. Morrell dropped Thimig, and almost dropped 
her parcels again. 

My Lizzie? is it Lizzie you’re talking about?” 

“ Oh, Lor 1 I’ve done it now, sure,” said Thimig, 
in despair. 

Mrs. Morrell was convinced that something had 
been concealed from her ; in order to find it out, it 


250 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT 

might be well to abate some of her anger^ with 
Thimig, so she said, in a suspiciously mild voice : 

Carry them parcels home for me, Orlander.’’ 

She put the packages into his arms, and then she 
turned on the crowd. 

“ What are you starin’ at me for, as if I was a 
rhinoceros, or an elephant? Go about your busi- 
ness, every one of you,” making a sort of charge 
before which the people fell back laughing heartily, 
but only to return and follow her, when with Thimig 
she went on her way again. 

‘‘Now, Orlander,” she said, as she made sure he 
had all the bundles ; “I want you to tell me what 
my Lizzie’s been doin’ ; what errand she come into 
the coffin shop about ?” 

But Thimig only said * 

“Oh, Lor ! maybe I’ve done it, and maybe I haven’t. 
Maybe it’s worse than no questions answered, an’ 
maybe its a trap wot means all questions an- 
swered. Oh, Lor ! oh Lor!” 

“ Now look here, Orlander,” said Mrs. Morrell, her 
tone not quite so mild this time, “you, and my Liz- 
zie’s been a transactin’ of some business unbe- 
knownst to me, and I’m goin’ to get to the bottom 
of it if I have to give you another rammin’ into one of 
the coffins. So, out with it ; do you hear ?” 

Such a threat, remembering how she once had put 
his head into a coffin, frightened Thimig so that his 
teeth chattered. Still, he did dot want to reveal Liz- 
zie’ssecret, and with some thought in his stupid mind 
of being able to keep it back if be answered in a 
roundabout way, he said : 

“ I’ll tell you, Mrs. Morrell, only gim me time. It 
wos just this way ; nigh’ bout three o’clock this af- 
ternoon when I wos all alone by meself in the shop a 
trim min’ of a coffin for Mrs. Tappan’s baby wot died 
this mornin,’ an’ I wos a thinkin’ in me own mind, an 
a wonderin’ Mrs. Morrell, if the lace border wouldn’ t 
look better than the satin round the baby’s face, an’ 


A CHI VALRO US DBED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT 251 

a reckonin’ how many screws that ere little lid ’d 
take.” 

But Mrs. Morrell could bear no more. “Orlander,” 
she said with a solemn sternness that frightened him 
still more, ‘‘you’re a talkin’ and you aintsayin’ any 
thing. What did my Lizzie want with you V’ 

‘'I’m a cornin’ to the point, Mrs. Morrell ; I’m a 
cornin’ to it if you’ll only gim me time. Your Liz- 
zie, she come into the shop, that is she come to the 
shop door, for she don’t come into the shop no more 
like she used to, an’ she wos a standin’ on tlie thresh- 
old before I knowed she was there, and when I 
ketched her flamin’ eyes on me, I just thouglit ” 

But what he thought he did not fell, for Mrs. Mor- 
rell having lost all patience gave him a stinging slap 
on the ear, and as she seemed about to give liirn 
nother, he lifted his arms full as they were of the 
parcels, and begged : 

“Don’t yer box me again, good Mrs. Morrell; 
now don’ t yer.” 

“Come to the point, then, you coffin screwing fool,” 
and she caught him by the ear to the great delight 
of those who still followed her, being careful however 
to keep at a respectful distance. 

“I will, Mrs. Morrell; o-o-oh, I will,” as she 
tweaked his ear painfully, and then he blubbered out 
what had passed between himself and Lizzie. He 
was blubbering as much because of having told Liz- 
zie’s secret as he was at the pain Mrs. Morrell gave 
him. Mrs. Morrell let go his ear, and was silent for 
a moment ; but she was angrily thinking how dared 
Bartholomew give money to Lizzie to take to other 
people, and then to keep it secret from her : but she 
soon would find out all about it. 

“Orlander,” she said shortly, “ you take me to 
where Mrs. Tavish lives.” 

“ Oh, Lor !” said Thirnig, but he turned about and 
led the way to the house he had so lately left. He 
did not know but that she might make him go in. 


252 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WEA T CAME OF IT. 

and ‘df she does,” he said to himself, “no questions 
answered won^t be no use ; it’ll be all questions an- 
swered, I’m a thinkin’ I” 

But Mrs. Morrell was satisfied to have him guide 
her to the door of Mrs. Tavish’s room ; there she 
took her packages from him, and told him to go 
home. 

Nanny had just bared her mother’s back to see 
what good the poultice had done, and she called with- 
out moving from her place : 

“ Come in.” 

Mrs. Morrell entered, and she was recognized at 
once by both mother and daughter. Nanny saying : 

“ It’s Lizzie Morrell's aunt.” 

And Lizzie Morrell’s aunt, to her own surprise, saw 
in Nanny the little girl who had answered alt the 
questions on examination day, and in Mrs. Tavish, 
the woman who had proudly vvhispered that she was 
the mother of the bright little girl. But seeing the 
poor looking room, the suffering woman, the child 
trying to act as nurse, not only softened Mrs. Mor- 
rell’s anger but touched her pity 

“ Yes ; I’m Lizzie Morrell’s aunt,” she said, “and 
now that I’m here, and see the way you are, if you 
don’t mind I’ll just tend a bit to that sore on your 
back, Mrs. Tavish. I know all about such things for 
I’ve had to poultice, and to plaster, and to bandage 
my own husband a good many times.” 

And without waiting to be told that she could do 
so, she put down her parcels, threw off her shawl, 
rolled up her sleeves, looked at the abscess and said 
it would break in a day or two if it were helped by 
the right kind of poultices ; then she sent Nanny to 
the drag store for the things she needed for the 
poultices, giving her money out of her own pocket- 
book, and saying so that Mrs. Tavish’ s feelings would 
not be hurt : 

“You can lust look upon it as borrowed, if you 

like.'’ 


A CHI VALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 253 

And while Nanny wasouh Mrs. Morrell attended 
to the sore so well that Mrs. Tavish’s pain was 
greatly lessened. 

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Mrs. Tavish 
said smiling, and at the same time feeling sorry for 
the thoughts she used to have about Mrs. Morrell. 

“ You have given me relief already. I felt so thank- 
ful when Nanny told me of Lizzie’s kindness to her 
this afternoon, but I’m sure I didn’t think she was 
going to tell you about us, and that you would be so 
good as to come here. 

Mrs. Morrell said nothing to that ; she deemed it 
as well to let Mrs. Tavish think Lizzie had told her, 
but she did want to find out what kindness Lizzie 
had done to Nanny, and after a little she managed 
so, that Mrs. Tavish told all about it. She even 
told how badly Nanny had felt at not being paid by 
Mrs. Blun. 

‘‘But,” she went on, “the ways of God are 
strange ; to think that a couple of hours after a 
boy should come here with a five dollar gold piece, 
from a friend, he said, but he told without meaning 
to do so, how the friend was a lady. It seemed as 
if some good angel sent it, for I was depending en- 
tirely on Mrs. Bliin’s money, and that five dollars 
will help me till next week when I shall be able to 
work again.” 

“You won’t be able to work, next w^eek, Mrs. 
Tavish,” said Mrs. Morrell with a sort of rough 
kindness, “ you won’ t be able to do anything for two 
weeks yet. I know what them sores are — Bartholo- 
mew Mortimer, that’s my husband, had one, and I 
know the time it took Mm to get well.” 

“Oh, dear !” said Mrs. Tavish in dismay, “ two 
weeks! what will become of Nanny and me? and 
I can’t expect Mrs. Blun to keep her work forme, 
and if somebody else does it, maybe she won’ t want 
to give it to me again.” 

“Don’t fret about that, Mrs. Tavish ; just tell me 


254 ^ OUIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. . 

where Mrs. Blun lives, and I’ll get somebody to do 
her washing for you till you’re well enough your- 
self, to do it again ; and now, I’m going to ask you 
to do me a favor.” 

“To do you a favor after your kindness to me, 
Mrs. Morrell ? Can you doubt that I would be glad 
to do anything I could ?” 

“ Well, it’s just this ; not to say a word about me 
to Lizzie ; of course, she’ll be running in to see you, 
and don’t say I was here. Don’t say a word about 
me, neither you, nor your little girl.” 

“ Surely, Mrs. Morrell ; but that's not much of a 
favor.” 

Just then Nanny returned, Mrs. Morrell made the 
poultice and j)ut it on, and after that she insisted on 
remaining to prepare supper for both mother and 
daughter, and finding in the closet nothing more 
than bread and tea, she went out herself, taking 
Mrs. Tavish’s market basket. 

Mrs. Tavish’s cheeks got red at needing so much 
assistance ; she never had been quite so poor before, 
but, 

“ Beggars can’ t be choosers,” she said to herself, 
and then as she thought of the honest kindness of 
Mrs. Morrell, she was vexed with herself for being 
so proud. 

Mrs. Morrell came back with her basket well filled, 
and in a very little while she had some nice tea 
made, and a juicy steak broiled for both mother and 
daughter. Mrs. Tavish could take only the tea, but 
it made her heart glad to see poor little hungry 
Nanny eat with great relish. 

While Nanny was eating, Mrs. Morrell said : 

“ I think now, you’ll get along pretty well for the 
night, Mrs. Tavish ; your little girl understands what 
to do about the poultices, and I’ll come again in the 
morning.” 

But when she had put on her bonnet and shawl, 
and had taken up her parcels, she looked about her 


A cfiiFAr.iioirsnffffD, ajvd what came of it. 255 

to make sure she had done everything that needed 
to be done before she should go, and while she stood 
thus, Nanny felt as if ought to do something to 
makeup for her old thoughts of Mrs. Morrell. At 
once she jumped from her seat, and flung her arms 
round Mrs. Morrell’s neck : 

“ 1 love you,” she said. 

That was all, and the next minute she was back 
in her seat, but the action had thrilled the woman to 
the heart. 

Mrs. Morrell knew nothing of the caresses of a 
child — Lizzie never even kissed her. 

“ I’ll be in the first thing in the morning,” she said 
again softly, and then without another word she went 
out closing the door gently behind her. 

Mother and child looked at each other ; they both 
had the same thought. The child spoke first : 

“ I feel as if 1 had been so wicked, mamma ' bht 
I never thought Mrs. Morrell was like this.” 

The mother said, speaking out of the fullness of 
her own gratitude : 

“ Let it be a lesson to us, Nanny, never to judge 
people hastily again.” 

“I wish Lizzie would like her aunt better,” said 
Nanny. “ Don’t you think, mamma, if Lizzie knew 
how kind her aunt really is, she would like her?” 

“Yes, dear; and perhaps it will come about in 
time. Knowing Lizzie so well, maybe you will be 
able to help it.” 

“If I could only tell her what Mrs. Morrell has 
done for us.” 

“But you must not tell a word of that, dear. I 
promised that you would not.” 

Nanny was silent for a moment, then all at once, 
she burst out passionately : 

“ Mamma ; I hate rich people.” 

“Yes, I do,” she went on, seeing her mother’s sur- 
prised, and somewhat reproving look. “ Mrs. Blun is 
rich, and she wouldn’t even be kind enough to take 


256 ^ CHIVALR 0 US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT, 

the time to pay you. Miss Ingoldsby’s rich and she 
didn’t care how she hurt my feelings, Helen Blun’s 
rich, and look at the way she acts. Lizzie Morrell is 
not rich, and Mrs. Morrell is not rich, but just think 
how kind they are. Yes, I do hate rich people.” 

Mrs. Lavish sighed, and yet way down in her heart 
she was glad that Nanny no longer cared for Miss In- 
goldsby ; but she said to the child : 

“ Have we not just been saying that we must not 
judge people hastily, and perhaps, if we could look 
into the hearts of those persons you named we should 
see many things to make us change our thoughts of 
them. Oh, Nanny ! Are you going to grow up 
like this, giving way to your temper and hating peo- 
ple because tliey liave hurt your feelings a little 
The tender sadness In her voice and the look of 
trouble in her face already white and drawn from 
pain, made Nanny penitent at once ; her temper went 
as quickly as it had come and she threw herself at 
her mother’s feet sobbing : 

“ I won’t hate them any more then, but, oh, it is so 
hard not to.’ ’ 


A CEIVALBOUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


257 


CHAPTER XXV. 

Mbs. Morrell on her way home did not feel at 
all like her old self. The happiness that comes from 
having made other people happy, filled her heart, 
and Nanny’s arms seemed to be about her still, caus- 
ing her to thrill with the feeling of motherhood. 
She could not be angry with anybody just then, and 
she wished she could always be in that amiable tem- 
per ; maybe if she were, she would get along better 
with Lizzie, and then Bartholomew would love her 
more, and they would all be happier. But she made 
up her mind she was not going to let either her hus- 
band or Lizzie know the kind act she had done ; if 
they could be so secret about their good works, she 
could be secret abouther’salso, and she meant to stop 
in the coffin shop on her way, and tell Thimig not to 
say anything about her. 

Thimig was sitting on a stool in the middle of the 
shop thinking in a very forlorn way of all that had 
happened that afternoon. He looked up at the big 
figure darkening the doorway, and when he saw it 
was Mrs. Morrell, he jumped from his seat and hid 
behind a pile of coffins. 

“ Orlander !” she called, and the tone of her voice 
was so different from what he expected, he thrust 
his head out from his hiding place. 

‘‘T don’t want to do you no harm,” she went on, 
‘‘ 1 only want to tell you that you musn’t let Lizzie 
know I went to Mrs. Tavish’s, or that you’ve seen 
me at all.” 

Thimig thrust his shoulders in sight. 


258 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


“I don’t want her, nor Mr. Morrell to know any- 
thing about what I’ve been doing for the Tavishes,” 
she still went on, “for they’re poor people, Orlan- 
der, very poor people, and it was very good of Liz- 
zie to bring you that money for them.” 

Half of Thimig’s body was in sight. 

“ My Lizzie’s a good girl if I do say it, as is lier 
aunt by marriage ; she’s a very feeling girl, and she 
brings it from the Morrells, not speaking of course, 
of the training she’s got from me.” 

Thimig came wholly into view. 

“ There are people in this world as don’t appreci- 
ate goodness when they see it, but I’m not one of 
them. When 1 see goodness 1 know it, if it’s only 
in a dog, and when I went to Mrs. Tavish’s, and saw 
the good my Lizzie had been doing, by sending you 
with that money, Orlander, I was proud of my Liz- 
zie.” 

Thimig could hardly believe that he heard aright ; 
Mrs. Morrell speaking so well of Lizzie, and in his 
own delight that it was so, he could only think of 
something Mr. Brush always said when he wanted 
to show how pleased he was with anybody. And to 
show his pleasure, Thimig said very solemnly : 

“Mrs. Morrell, you’re a brick.” 

She nodded, not that she meant the nod to be 
taken as a sign that she was a brick, but to show 
that what she had said was quite true ; and then she 
went on : 

“I’ll depend on you, Orlander, to keep all this in 
your own bosom ; you’re not to tell one word of it 
to Lizzie, nor to anybody else. Do you promise me, 
Orlander?” 

Thimig crossed his hands on his breast and 
said : 

“It’s there, Mrs. Morrell ; it’s there in the inside 
part of my bosom, and it’s stuck so fast forty-four 
wild horses couldn’t draw it out.” 

She nodded again, this time to show she believed 


A OSIFALROD'SBElffD AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 259 


him, and that she was satisfied ; and then she went 
away. 

“ I Was getting anxious about you, Maria,” said 
her husband, when she came in panting from com- 
ing up the stairs. He spoke so tenderly, it seemed 
to bring back all she had felt on leaving Mrs. Tavish, 
and she put down her parcels and went to him. 

“Bartholomew, it’s good of you to be anxious 
about me, and it’s not good of me that I aint more 
anxious about you, and maybe you thought it was 
neglectful of me to be out so long from you, but I 
was buyin’ some odds and ends and the time went.” 

“Oh, it wasn’t that I minded yOur being out,” he 
said, wondering at her gentle, affectionate manner, 
“but that I was afraid when you were so much 
longer than you generally are, something might have 
happened to you, dear,” and he lifted his face to her 
that she might kiss him.” 

“Lizzie wondered too,” he went on, “and she’s 
had the supper ready this good while. She went into 
the kitchen just before you came to make sure your 
tea would be hot, for I know the comfort you take in 
a good, strong, hot cup of tea, Maria.” 

His tenderness went to her heart. She kissed him 
again, saying : 

“It’s too good you are to me, Bartholomew,” and 
then she went to the kitchen. 

Lizzie had prepared the supper very nicely, and 
so as to have her aunt’s tea particularly good, she 
had made a fresh pot as soon as she heard Mrs. Mor- 
rell’s voice in the sitting room ; and Mrs. Morrell, 
directly that she tasted the tea, praised it to Lizzie’s 
utter astonishment. But Lizzie was still feeling sore 
at what her aunt had said that day about Lizzie’s 
visits to the window of the picture gallery, and think- 
ing that her aunt would continue to say something 
disagreeable whenever she saw her going out, Lizzie 
was not won much by her aunt’s kind manner now. 

The next morning when Lizzie awoke without be- 


260 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

ing called by her aunt as usual, and found when she 
went into the kitchen, it was eight o’clock, she was 
again surprised. Her breakfast was ready, the coffee 
as nice and hot as she had Mrs. Morrell’s tea the 
evening before, but Mrs. Morrell was nowhere to be 
seen. Since vacation had begun, Lizzie had helped 
to prepare the breakfast, and she ran into her uncle 
to know what it meant. Her uncle was up, walking 
about the room with his cane, and looking very 
happy. 

“ What is the matter, Dad?” she asked, almost 
out of breath. “ Has anything happened ?” 

He shook his head. 

“I don’t know; Maria aint like herself; she’s 
been more like a saint this morning. She said she 
wanted to go out early and that she wouldn’t call you, 
but just left your breakfast all ready for you ; that 
it was good for you to have a long sleep once in a 
while ; then she gave me my breakfast. I always 
said Maria was a good woman, but this goodness 
doesn’t seem natural; she wasn’t like herself at all,” 
and he really looked troubled for and instant, while 
Lizzie looked puzzled. 

Lizzie however, did not think that Mrs. Morrell 
would continue to be so good, but she would not say 
that to her uncle. She just kissed him, made sure he 
wanted nothing and went back to eat her breakfast. 
Then she did her morning housework. 

It was almost noon when Mrs. Morrell returned, 
and she was just as gentle as she bad been the even- 
ing before. She did not say a word even when Lizzie 
prepared to go out ; but for all that the child did not 
trust her, and she said to herself as she went down 
the stairs carrying carefully wrapped from sight the 
copy she had made of the engraving : 

“ It seems like as if she was just thinking to do 
something. I wonder what it is.” 

Then she skipped on to the undertaker’s shop to 
find out how Thimig had got along. 


A CmVALHOtrS deed, am what game of it. 261 


Thimig saw her coming and he crossed his hands 
on his breast ; that was to help him keep his prom- 
ise to Mrs. Morrell. 

Mr. Brush was also in the shop and though he 
was used to the boy’s strange ways, and amusing 
stupidity, he wondered what in the world made 
him cross his arms like that. 

Lizzie went only to the door-way, and giving a 
friendly nod to Mr. Brush, she said quickly to 
Thimig : 

“ Did you do that 

He crossed his arms more tightly on his breast, and 
said in a very solemn way : 

‘‘ I done it, Lizzie,” 

“What did they say? who did you see? who 
did you give it to ?” she asked more quickly than 
before. 

“ T went to that ere house wot you told me, Liz- 
zie, with m 3 ^ mind made up on the point of no ques- 
tions answered, and I seen the woman wot you told 
me to see, and I made that point plain to her, and I 
held out that ere parcel wot you give me, and wot 
I wrapped in two newspapers so it wouldn’t be lost 
to that woman, but She didn’t take it.” 

“Didn’t take it,” said Lizzie, her face clouding 
with disappointment. 

“You wos too quick ; I was goin’ to say didn’t 
take it herself cause I guess she was too much doub- 
led up in the chair to take it ; but a little ’un like 
yourself took it, and she was a unwrappin’ of it 
when I come away.” 

“ And didn’t they know what was in it till after 
you came away ?” she asked, her face brighten- 
ing. 

“I won’t say as to that, Lizzie,” he said. 

Lizzie became impatient and she forgot Mr. Brush 
was listening — he was shaking with silent laughter 
at Thimig. 

“Tell me one thing, Oleander,” she said, half 


262 ^ GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

angrily ; did you tell them who sent you with that 
parcel 

“No. I didn’t Lizzie ; I stuck to the point of no 
questions answered.” 

She seemed more satisfied, but not entirely, for 
after a moment’s pause, she asked again : 

“ You haven’t told anybody, Oleander, have 
you 

That question put the poor boy into a dreadful 
plight. Stupid as he was he was strictly conscien- 
tious. But how was he to keep his promise to Mrs. 
Morrell, and how was he to keep Lizzie from know- 
ing that he had betrayed her secret without telling 
an “out and out” lie. He raised his crossed hands to 
his shoulders catching the latter very tightly, as if 
there were something in the pressure to help him, 
and then he began : 

“There ere circumstances, Lizzie, in a feller’s life 
when it aint no good to reckon on what’ll happen to 
him, when he’s a goin’ along, with his head down, and 
his hands a swinging, and his feet steady, and he 
aint a thinking no harm of nobody, and he’s a won- 
dering, maybe, Lizzie, ’bout ” but not being able 

to say what it was he might be wondering about, he 
repeated : 

“ And when as I say, he aint a thinking no harm 
of nobody, but he’s a wondering, maybe, Lizzie ” 

He was cut short by a roar of laughter from Mr. 
Brush who could restrain his mirth no longer, and 
then Lizzie’s look of puzzled astonishment gave way, 
and she laughed also. 

“I don’t believe you know what you’re talking 
about. Oleander,” she said, “and I can’t wait any 
longer to find out.” 

She turned away as she spoke, and in another 
moment she had gone from the shop. 

Thimig dropped bis hands slowly to his sides and 
looked after her ; then he looked at Mr. Brush who 
was still laughing. 


A OBU^ALHOUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 263 


“ She thinks Tm a ejeet,”— he meant idiot— -he said 
mournfully. 

“ I shouldn’t wonder,” said Mr. Brush. 

“ But I aint,” said Thimig more mournfully still, 
“it’s circumstances wot’s agen me ; it’s no questions 
answered ; wot’s done it.” 

And then he went to a corner of the shop and sat 
in sullen silence till Mr. Brush called him to do some 
work. 


264 ^ (JMIVALRO VS DEED, AND WEAT CAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

Lizzie went directly from tlie undertaker’s shop 
to see Xanny Tavish ; she went with some fear lest 
her visit might hurt Nanny’s sensitiveness in some 
way, but so far from that being the case, the visit 
seemed to give Nanny a great deal of pleasure, and 
she drew the little girl with much delight to her 
mother, and Mrs. Tavish shook hands with her warm- 
ly and thanked her for coming. 

Then Nanny told how much better her mother was, 
the abscess having broken that morning, and how a 
queer looking boy had brought them a live dollar 
gold piece the afternoon before, which was sent by 
some friend, and Lizzie laughed at Nanny’s account 
of Thimig till the tears came in her eyes. 

When she rose to go, Mrs. Tavish kissed her and 
told her again how kind it was for her to come, at 
which Lizzie blushed and showed so much haste to 
get away from both thanks and praise that Mrs. Tav- 
ish was better pleased with her than ever. 

Nanny went with Lizzie to the street door, giving 
her a second hug before she let her go, and longing 
as she stood with her arms about her to tell her of 
Mrs. Morrell’s kindness, as it was, she could not 
help saying : 

“ I feel as if I loved everybody in the world, to-day, 
Lizzie for after all, everybody in the world has some- 
thing that we would love if we only knew way down 
in their hearts. Don’t you think so, Lizzie ?” 

Lizzie nodded carelessly, not dreaming of the hid- 
den motive of Nanny’s speech ; nor did she think of 


A cm VALRO US DBUD, AND WMA T GAUR OF IT. 265 

the speech again as she skipped along to the picture 
gallery, for Lizzie herself felt very happy ; happy 
enough to forgive poor stupid Thiniig for having told 
that tlie friend was “ she.” 

The cause of her happiness was that she was go- 
ing to find out what the lessons in drawing would 
cost, and her uncle advised her to take the copy she 
had made of the engraving to the teacher. 

Kaufman n’s Art Rooms.” The big red sign had 
a formidable look, and for the first time Lizzie wished 
she had some one with her ; but she went up the 
flight of stairs without stopping. Then she thought 
it would be good manners to knock, but nobody 
answered though she could hear the soft hum of 
voices within, and at length she turned the knob and 
entered. 

It seemed to be a room full of statues, and many 
ladies and gentlemen were there, some walking 
about, and others standing before the images and 
talking in a low tone. Nobody noticed the bewild- 
ered little girl till an elderly gentleman coming from 
an inner room and seeing her, asked kindly : 

“ What do you want. Sissy ?” 

‘‘ Mr. Bromley,” she replied, feeling that she need 
not say anything more till she was assured she was 
speaking to that gentleman. 

‘‘ He is in the next room ; come with me.”^ 

She followed the elderly gentleman, finding the 
next room to be very large and filled with paintings 
and engravings ; they seemed to cover every part of 
the walls, and there were so many pictures placed 
on easels that her guide had to take a sort of wind- 
ing path in leading her through the apartment. 

Lizzie for wonder and awe, was hardly able to 
breathe as she followed him ; the very air seemed to 
be full of something that made her feel as if she had 
been wickedly bold in daring to come into this 
charmed place. How should she ever have courage 
to show her poor little sketch in the midst of this 


266 ^ GIlIVALliO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IZ 


wonder land of beauty and genuis '? what would the 
great and noble Mr. Bromley— she thought he must 
be both great and noble since he was to be found 
amid all these masterpieces — think of her boldness, 
a poor little ignorant girl wanting to take such les- 
sons % 

How she wished she had not come, but it was too 
late for her guide led her up to two gentlemen who 
were talking in front of a painting that stood on an 
easel ; the painting was that of rhe child’s head from 
the crayon drawing of which she had made her poor 
little copy. 

“Bromley, here’s some on^ for you,” said the 
elderly gentleman, beginning at once to take a wind- 
ing path back, and the two gentlemen turned to 
Lizzie. One of the gentlemen did more the moment 
he saw her ; he took a step forward, saying : 

“My little unknown girl of Margaret Anthon’s 
fruit stand.” 

Then Lizzie saw that he was the handsome gentle- 
man who had won her admiration on that never to- 
be-forgotten Saturday morning, and that fact but 
added to her embarrassment. What w^ould Rethink 
of her when he should hear wiiat she had come for. 
She hugged her little drawing more tightly, making 
up her mind it should never be taken out of its wrap- 
per. 

Mr. Nevin saw her blushing and he said to his 
cam panion, a small slight you ig man with a large 
head, a great deal of black, curling hair, and big dark 
eyes. 

“ This little girl has business with you, Bromley ; 
I shall go to another part of the room.” He went 
over to a corner, turned his back, and seemed to be 
looking very closely at a picture. 

Mr. Bromley was not used t ) doing business with 
children, and he smiled when he heard what she 
wanted. 

“ Have you ever taken any lessons in drawing 1” 


A GBIVA LRO U8 DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 267 

he asked more as a vent for his amusement at this 
ridiculous child coming to ask him, tlie great Brom- 
ley, what lie charged for his lessons, than to get an 
answer. 

“ Yes ; I took lessons in school.’’ 

“ A public school ?” the tone was one of lofty 
contempt. 

‘‘Yes;” said Lizzie who was now almost unable 
to speak. 

Mr. Bromley laughed, throwing back his hand- 
some hair with a motion of his head, and the laugh 
brought Mr. Nevin back to Bromley’s side. A laugh 
sometimes told a good deal to Nevin, and this laugh 
put his teeth on edge. 

‘‘Let me talk to this little girl,” he said, “my 
hobby just now is children,” and Mr. Bromley could 
not afford to object to anything so rich and generous 
a patron would do ; Mr. Bromley being the brother- 
in-law of the proprietor of the art rooms, and Mr. 
Nevin having dropped in before returning to New- 
port in order to select some paintings for his new 
house. 

“You would like to take drawing lessons,” he 
said to Lizzie, and his voice and manner quieted at 
once the wild and angry beating of her lieart. How 
different from Mr. Bromley’s tone and manner, and 
in the reaction of her feelings she could hardly keep 
from crying ; but she conquered herself, and the only 
sign of feeling she showed was the trembling of her 
under lip when she answered him. 

“Do you like to draw?” he went on, and then 
suddenly noticing the movement of her fingers that 
held the parcel, he asked-: 

“ Is that some of your work you have brought to 
show?” . 

She got very red again and she looked at Mr. 
Bromley. That gentleman, seeing Mr. Nevin’ s inter- 
est- in the little girl, put off his lofty air and smiled 
blandly. 


268 ^ GHIVALnoUS DEIED, AND WHAT GAME OE IT. 


“ It’s such a poor little drawing,” burst from Liz- 
zie, ‘‘ that I’m ashamed to show it.” 

‘ ‘ N obody ’ s firs t efforts are ever very good, ’ ’ said 
Mr. Nevin smiling, ‘‘but, by letting us see it we 
may be able to tell how you will be likely to get on 
in the future.” And he put out his hand for the 
parcel. 

Lizzie began to unwrap it but her little hands 
trembled so much that Nevin said with another 
smile : 

“ Let me do it.” 

She felt as she gave it to him, that, no matter how 
poor he might think it was she should not mind so 
much, but still her heart beat till she thought it 
could be seen through her dress. 

Nevin drew out the sketch ; it covered two square 
feet of stiff white paper, and when he saw, crude 
though it was, the great likeness it bore to the paint- 
ing before him, he turned with astonishment to 
Bromley. 

“ Look here,” he said, holding it up against the 
picture. 

“ Now, they’re going to laugh at it,” thought Liz- 
zie, and for an instant lier heart seemed to stop beat- 
ing and the color went out of her face. She did not 
dare to look at either of them, and when she heard 
Nevin speak again, his voice sounded to her as if it 
came from a distance. He was saying to Bromley. 

“ What does your artist soul say to that ?” 

But Bromley did not answer, and had Lizzie been 
looking, she would have seen genuine surprise in 
his face. 

“Where did you see the picture you made your 
copy from, little girl ?” asked Nevin. 

The kind tone once more assured her ; she looked 
up, the color coming back to her cheeks, and the 
beating to her heart. 

“I copied from the picture in the store down 
stairs ; I used to come every day to the window and 


A GHIVALR0V8 DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 269 

study the picture, and then go home and make part 
of it.” 

‘‘ What !” exclaimed Nevin, “ all done from 
memory ? Bromley, here is genius, needing but 
your master hand to guide it forth. How old are 
you?” turning back to Lizzie. 

“Ten years last month.” 

“ How long have you been taking lessons in draw- 
ing ?” 

“ Once a week in school for a year.” 

“ Who paid for your lessons ?” 

“They didn’t need to be paid for ; it’s a public 
school. 

“ Who is going to pay for them now ?” 

“ My uncle.” 

Her straightforward manner in answ-ering charmed 
Nevin. 

“ Bromley,” he said, “ I want to speak to you. 
Wait a few minutes, little girl.” 

And then he went behind a curtain with the artist, 
leaving Lizzie in a state of wondering, but not alto- 
gether unhappy suspense. She had heard what 
Nevin said about genius being in her sketch, and how 
it only needed Bromley’s master hand to guide it 
forth, but she was not sure that even that speech 
might not be a sort of i)olite ridicule of her sketch ; 
still, his questions to her, and telling her to. wait, 
seemed to be hopeful signs. Then she wondered if 
he helped Mr. Bromley in giving lessons, making up 
her mind at length that it must be so, else why 
should he be so interested, and why should Mr. 
Bromley want to please him as he seemed to do. 

Behind the curtain Nevin was saying : 

“ Am I correct, Bromley, in thinking there is tal- 
ent in that little copy ?” 

“ If she did it without any help, there is a great 
deal of talent.” 

“ Help, pshaw ! You are no reader of faces, if you 
conld mistrust the honesty of that child, Bromley. 


270 ^ CHIVALRO VS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


Are you willing to take her as a pupil if you get the 
price you are accustomed to ask 

‘‘ Oh, of course, Mr. Nevin. How could I object ? 
but my price will be too dear, for judging from her 
appearance she does not come from a very rich 
home.” 

“Never mind that; tell your price.” And Mr. 
Bromle\% taking advantage of Mr. Nevin’s strange 
interest in the child, put his price at a higher figure 
than his richest pupil paid ; but Mr. Nevin not 
knowing that, said only : 

“ Very well, Bromlej^ ; you tell this little girl you 
will give her lessons for,” naming such a small 
amount that Bromley started, and then stared at the 
speaker, “ and I shall give you the remainder of 
your price, but neither she, nor her family are to 
know that.” 

“But, Mr. Nevin ! think how my reputation will 
suffer should such a price as you want me to say to 
this child, ever become known. Think, my dear sir, 
I am an artist.” 

Mr. Bromley made himself as tall as he could do 
without standing on his toes. Nevin said with mock 
gravity : 

“But think, Mr Bromley, of the genius you may 
be bringing out, not to speak of the charity you may 
be doing by this sacrifice of your artistic dignity : 
This poor little girl may become a star in the artist 
world, and then what fame for the great and kind 
Bromley. Seriously speaking, your terms to her 
need not be known to any one outside her family.” 

“Very well, Mr. Nevin, if I can be assured of 
that.” 

And they went back to Lizzie, Nevin however, 
staying a little behind so as to let Bromley talk to 
her. 

When Lizzie heard the price, so little that she 
knew her uncle would give it at once, and that Mr. 
Bromley thought her sketch very good, and that she 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 271 

might begin her lessons on the very next afternoon 
at his private studio on another street, she could 
liardly contain her delight. She felt that Mr. Nevin 
had done it all, and when he came forward, smiling 
to tell her how glad he was that she was going to 
have the lessons, she felt that just to thank him was 
entirel}^ too little ; she wanted to do something to 
show him how she was burning with gratitude, but 
there was nothing she could do more than to thank 
him. 

Bromley explained to her that he had made his 
terms so very small because he thought she would be 
a very attentive pux)il, and that he expected her not 
to tell anybody, and not to let her family mention the 
price either. 

“Now tell me your name and wnere you live,’’said 
Nevin taking out his pocket memorandum, and 
when he had written both and imt back the mem- 
orandum, he took up the sketch that still rested on 
the easel over a corner of the painting. 

“I should like to buy this,” he said, “ for how 
much will you sell it?” 

Amazement and delight kept her from answering. 
He put his hand in his pocket and drew out a five 
dollar gold piece. ‘‘ Will you sell it for this ?” he 
asked smiling. 

Then she found her voice. 

“ It would not be right for me to sell it, because 
it isn’ t good enough ; but I’ll be so glad to give it to 
you. Please take it.” 

“ No, my generous little girl ; I must buy it ; I 
want it as a keepsake of a little girl’s industry and at- 
tention, for yon must have been very attentive to 
have worked so well from memory ; and some day 
should you be successful enough to earn a good deal 
of money by your works, it may be pleasant to re- 
member the first picture you-sold.” 

He put the money in her hand, bade her good af- 
ternoon, and went again behind the curtain. 


272 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

Lizzie never knew how she got home tliat clay ; it 
seemed to her as if her feet did not touch the side- 
walk at all, and when red and breathless she bounded 
into her uncle’s presence, both he and Mrs. Morrell 
who was with him, exclaimed at her appearance. 

In her delight at the news she had to tell, she 
quite forgot her wonted feelings toward Mrs. Mor- 
rell, and she looked at her while talking^ quite as 
she did at her uncle. Her uncle as he listened, seemed 
to be as delighted as Lizzie was ; if his wife had 
not been present he would have said a great deal ; as it 
was, he could not refrain from making several queer 
sounds expressive of his satisfaction, and he looked 
often at Mrs. Morrell to see the effect of Lizzie’s 
news upon her. Mrs. Morrell was taking it all very 
silently, but showing in her face what a surprise it 
was to her. 

Lizzie said when she had finished the account : 

“ So, I have talent. Dad, rmZ talent, Mr. Bromley 
said so, and when I get big I may be able to earn a 
whole lot of money for you.” 

Then she sprang to his neck, but he watching his 
wife, whispered : 

•‘Kiss Maria, Lizzie.” 

She was too happy not to obey him, and she went 
at once to Mrs. Morrell who was still silent. It was 
her unusual silence that puzzled her husband ; if she 
would only say something, but to sic there looking 
straight before her, was as mysterious to his simple, 
honest heart as was the “saint-like” way she had 
acted in the morning. 

Mrs. Morrell was silent because she was thinking 
what her feelings would be were Lizzie her own 
child, and just as she had begun to realize a little 
the joy and pride which she should feel in such a 
case, Lizzie had her arms about her neck and was 
kissing her. Mrs. Morrell was thrilled just as she had 
been thrilled by Nanny’s caress, and she pressed 
Lizzie to her. It was the first time they had ever 


A OHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 273 

embraced, and had Lizzie but said, “ Aunt Maria,” 
she would have won the woman’s whole heart. But 
never having called Mrs. Morrell aunt, she did not 
think of doing so now, and had she thought of it 
she would not have done it, for the term, aunt, im- 
plied a closer relationship, than Lizzie was willing 
to accord Mrs. Morrell, even with all this new and 
strange tenderness to plead for her. But Mrs. Mor- 
rell half expected it, however, and when she found 
it did not come, she jmt Lizzie out of her arms, gently 
though, and went into the other room. 

Then Mr. Morrell gave vent to his delight which 
was two-fold ; delight at Lizzie’s good fortune, and 
delight that his wife had kissed her so warmly ; he 
did not dream of his wife’s disaj)pointment at not 
being called aunt. 

“ I always knew that Maria was a good woman,” 
he said, “ and she’s proving it now Just think of 
the way she hugged you, Lizzie ; your own mother 
couldn’t have done it more natural. But it doesn’t 
seem right for her to be so good, all of a sudden,” 
and Mr. Morrell looked very grave, tliey say folks 
that are going to die sometimes changes that way. 
I hope taint so with Maria.” 

Lizzie was thinking so much of her wonderful 
good fortune she hardly heard what her uncle said, 
and nestling beside him she began again to talk 
about it. 

‘‘Just to think. Dad ; it seems as if it was for 
that five dollars you gave me for Mrs. Tavish that 
I got five dollars for my drawing.” 

“Sh he said, fearing his wife was in the next 
room and that she would hear even through the 
closed door. With all her “ saint-like’ ’ conduct he 
was not sure how she would take his having given 
money away without her knowledge. And Lizzie 
drew down her face and was vexed with herself for 
having forgotten to speak in a whisper. 

But Mrs. Morrell was not in the next room. She 


274 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


had gone to th^e kitchen to have a ‘‘ good cry,’’ and 
as it was not often she did that, her tears surprised 
herself. They did not come from anger, nor from 
her old jealousy because of the place Lizzie held 
in her husband’s affections, but from disappointment 
and a strange longing that made her feel quite un- 
like herself. She cried till the apron she held to her 
face was wet through ; then, all at once, she started 
up, saying : 

“ What an old fool I am ; I’ll just go out and look 
for a washerwoman to do Mrs. Blun’s clothes till 
Mrs. Lavish gets better. Them two that I left,” 
speaking as if some one were listening to her, ‘‘won’ t 
miss me for awhile.” 

And drying her eyes and rubbing her face to take 
away the traces of the tears, she put on her bonnet 
and shawl and went out. She called on all the wash- 
erwomen she knew, but not one would be willing to 
do the clothes for only a week or two. This made Mrs. 
Morrell angry ; she thought it was laziness, and 
when she got home she was so much like her old 
self, Bartholomew felt easier in his mind about her ; 
as he said to Lizzie : 

“She’s more natural, and as long as she isn’t 
scolding it’s better to have her like herself.” 


A CHI VALRO Ub DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 275 


CHAPTER XXVIl. 

Mr. Nevin went directly from the art rooms to 
the hotel where Cornelia, Edwin, and he were stop- 
ping during their brief absence from Newport. 

Edwin had just joined his sister, and the two were 
going for a drive ; meeting Nevin, Edwin said : 

‘‘We did not expect jon back so soon, nor did 1 
know that I could finish my business down town so 
quickly, or we might have arranged to return to 
Newport by this evening’s boat. I am really sorry 
we did not.” 

“ I am not sorry,” said Nevin, “ for in that case 
I might have missed something pleasant that hap- 
pened to-day,” and he told about Lizzie Morrell be- 
ing careful hov/ever, not to tell that he was going to 
pay for her lessons. 

Edwin looked vexed. 

‘T declare, Egbert,” he said, “yon ought to found 
an asylum ; then you could have all these wonder- 
ful children together.” 

“ I mean to have some of them together, when we 
get our city house in order,” he said, “ at least, I 
mean to try something of the kind with Cornelia’s 
help. Our list began with little Helen Blun ; now, 
we have this clever little Lizzie Morrell. One of the 
most striking things about her was her courage 
in going to the art rooms alone ; it has given me a 
great wish to see her family if she has any besides 
the uncle she spoke of ; but I shall wait a little and 
see how she gets on with Bromley.” 


276 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

Edwin bit his lip ; Cornelia thought with secret 
vexation that it was too bad something did not throw 
Nanny Tavish in Egbert’s way. 

Egbert went on : 

“It is better to keep people from doing wrong 
than to try to make them repent for having done 
wrong, and if we can help to give the right kind of 
thoughts to the little ones, and help to make sun- 
shine in their lives, who knows what great good for 
the future we may be doing.” 

Edwin said wickedly : 

“ That may be, but you seem to want to do good 
and give sunshine to little girls alone ; why do you 
leave the little boys out in the cold ?” 

“They shall not be left out very long,” replied 
Egbert laughing, but at the same time looking in a 
strange manner at his brother, “the girls appeal more 
to me because they are less able to make their own 
way in the world ; but I shall not neglect the boys, 
and I have a most charming pair to begin with in Mr. 
Blun’s twin sons — manlier little fellows I never 
saw. But I am keeping you and Cornelia from your 
drive. I shall meet you when you return.” 

He left the parlor, Edwin looking after him with 
clouded brow and tightly compressed lips. Cornelia 
drawing on her gloves watched him apprehensively 
expecting that as usual he would begin to vent his 
anger upon her; but, to her relief, he said nothing. 

She wondered what he would say if he knew of 
her meeting with Nanny Tavish, and that she had 
sent ten dollars to Nanny’s mother. 

About that very time Mrs. Tavish was reading the 
letter, or rather note in which was inclosed the 
money. It said : 

Mrs. Tavish : 

Your little daughter has told you of course how 
we met. I am sorry she refused to take what I of- 
fered in all kindness, hearing from her that you were 


A CHIVA LRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 277 

ill. ^ Please tell her that I did not mean to hurt her 
feelings. Fearing that you may be in some need be- 
cause of your illness, I send the inclosed, begging 
you to accept it. 

Hoping you will soon be better, 

“ I am, Your friend, 

“COENELIA IjS^GOLDSBY.” 

So, it was not Miss Ingoldsby who had sent the 
live dollars after all, was Mrs. Tavish’s first thought 
on reading the note ; then, as she held up the bill to 
Nanny, and told her the message that had come 
with it, she hardly knew whether to be glad, or 
sorry. She almost made up her mind to give back 
the money with an answer of thanks, but Miss In- 
goldsby, as if to insure herself against such a return, 
had given no address. 

‘‘Nanny said : 

“Miss Ingoldsby is kind to send us the money 
after the way I acted to her, isn’t she, mamma ?” 

“Yes replied her mother, but in an absent- 
minded way as if she were not thinking at all of what 
the little girl had said, and Nanny wondered. It 
seemed to her as if the ten dollars did not give her 
mother half the pleasure the five dollars had given 
her the day before, and very much puzzled, she said 
again : 

“You don’t seem a bit glad, mamma, are you sorry 
to have to take it ?” 

That question roused Mrs. Tavish from her troubled 
thoughts, and seeing the puzzled, questioning look 
in the child’s eyes, she said quickly : 

“I am very thankful to get it; indeed, all this 
help now when we are in such need, seems so won- 
derful that I can’t understand it.” 

Mrs. Tavish did not understand it— to corne from 
a distant western city to be helped by one of them. 


r 


278 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT 


CHAPTER XXVIIT. 

The Monday on which Lizzie Morrell was to take 
her first lesson from Mr. Bromley seemed to her to 
be very long in coming. In order to make Sunday 
pass more quickly she went to see Xanny, and she 
even would have stopped to see Thiniig had the shop 
door been open, so as to tell him that in spite of his 
blundering, he had done his errand pretty well. She 
laughed every time she thought of Nanny’s account 
of him. 

How surprised Lizzie would have been did she 
know that Mrs. Morrell had been to see Mrs. Tavish 
that very morning, and that she had spent an hour 
in attending to the invalid. But Mrs. Tavish and 
Nanny kept that very secret, only wiien Nanny went 
to the" door with Lizzie, she spoke again about think- 
ing kindly of everybody. Lizzie said to herself as 
she went home : 

“ I wonder what she’s preaching tome like that 
for 

But she was too happy in her anticipations of the 
next day to care much about it. 

Mrs. Morrell also had anticipations of the next 
day, but not quite such pleasant ones as Lizzie. She 
had made up her mind since she could not get a 
washerwoman for the Bluns, to keep her word to 
Mrs. Tavish, by turning washerwoman herself, but 
she did not intend to let Mrs. Tavish know that, and 
in order to have Lizzie out of the way on Monday, 
she told her she might go out an hour before the 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 279 


time for her lesson. Lizzie, grea tly astonished, looked 
at her. 

“ It will give you a chance to take a little walk,” 
said Mrs. Morrell, and Lizzie, still very much aston- 
ished, but not at all sorry to have so much time, did 
as she was told. 

Bromley’s studio was in a building with a good 
many other studios ; to get to it one had to go up 
several flights of stairs, and to make many turns. 
It was not at all like his brother-in-law’s art rooms ; 
instead of elegant paintings there were only half 
flnished pencil sketches, and for furniture nothing 
but the stools on which the pupils sat, and the plain 
tables where they worked. There were two young 
women busy there now, but they put down their pen- 
cils when Lizzie came in, and looked at her with a 
good deal of surprise. When they found she could 
draw nearly as well as they did, they were still more 
surprised, and when after her lesson she gathered up 
the copies Mr. Bromley gave her for home work, and 
went out of the studio without even looking at them, 
they asked.Bromley all sorts of questions about her. 
Bromley put on a look of knowing everything they 
asked, but he only said while he ran his fingers 
through his beautiful hair : 

‘‘I cannot tell you, young ladies, what you want to 
know ; I can only say that she has great talent, and 
it is given to me to develop it.” 

Ever after the young women treated Lizzie with a 
great deal of respect. 

Had not Lizzie been so full of her delightful work, 
she must have noticed much more than she did, 
Mrs. MorrelTs strange actions during the week ; that 
good woman seemed to want the little girl to give 
all her time to her drawing and to waiting on lier 
uncle, and when she brought her husband’s meals 
to him, she actually brought another tray contain- 
ing a rei)ast for Lizzie, saying : 

It is pleasant for you two to eat together while 
Lizzie is home from school.’’ 


280 ^ CmVALROVSDEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


Mr. Morrell began to feel again, that, Maria was 
not long for this world,’’ and it made him sad, but 
he did not say anything about it to Lizzie. 

Toward the end of the week Lizzie began to sus- 
pect that Mrs. Morrell was only maneuvering to keep 
her, Lizzie, out of the kitchen ; and what was Mrs. 
Morrell doing? Lizzie caught glimpses of freshly 
ironed clothes that she knew did not belong to 
any member of the Morrell family, and once she 
saw in a closet— Mrs. Morrell had forgotten to 
close the door —a brand new clothes basket, but be- 
fore she could look any further, Mrs. Morrell shut 
the door in a way that showed her vexation for hav- 
ing left it open. 

Lizzie told it all to her uncle and he was as much 
puzzled as his niece. 

‘‘Leave Maria, alone, Lizzie ; he said, don’ t be pry- 
ing intoanything she doesn’t want you to see. Maria’s 
a good woman, as 1 always said ; she has her faults 
of course, as wholiasn’t, but, she’ll not do anything 
far astray, and whatever she may be at now, Lizzie, 
it’s all right, I’m thinking, and if we’ll have a little 
patience, it’ll come out by and by.” 

The work that Mrs. Morrell maneuvered so con- 
stantly to hide from her husband and niece, was the 
washing and ironing of Mrs. Blun’s clothes, and on 
Saturday afternoon as soon as Lizzie had gone to the 
studio, and Bartholomew had prepared himself for 
his afternoon nap, she set forth with the new basket 
well filled with the clothes of the Bluns. 

If Mrs. Morrell w^ere obliged to do such work she 
would not have held her head so high, nor have 
gone down the stairs as if she wanted all the people 
in the house to hear her. But, as the work was 
done for somebody else through kindness, she 
wanted to show her neighbors that she was not 
ashamed of it. 

Strangely enough, notone of her neighbors had seen 
her bringing the clothes from Mrs. Blun’s, and dur- 


A OBIVA LRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 281 

ing the week, if any of them had noticed a larger 
quantity and a different kind of garments on Mrs. 
Morrell’s clothes lines, no one, in iier hearing at least, 
passed any remark about it. Now, however, she 
made up her mind that some of them should both 
see and say something, and accordingly, at the 
strange, loud, creaking noise she made with the bas- 
ket, Mrs. Tappan hurried out into the entry. 

Mrs. Tappan’ s door had been partly open as were 
most of the doors in the house, owing to the warm 
weather ; and Mrs. Tappan never having quite made 
up with Mrs. Morrell since the angry words the two 
had about Lizzie, put her hands on her sides and 
stared without saying anything. 

Mrs. Morrell made more noise, and put on a look 
of severe goodness. The loud sounds brought 
another spectator to the scene, and she being on very 
friendly terms with Mrs. Morrell, said kindly : 

“ Why, Mrs. Morrell, what are you carrying such 
a heavy load for 

‘‘It’s not for me to say, Mrs. Garten,” replied 
Mrs. Morrell, ‘‘ it wouldn’t be becoming for me to 
tell what I’m carrying this basket for, but those 
as knows my husband knows there aint no reason 
for me to burden myself this way,” going slowly 
down the stairs while she was speaking, “ but I’m 
one of the kind as couldn’t fold my hands and take 
my ease when there was an abscess and other kinds 
of misery going on around me. That’s all there’s in it, 
Mrs. Garten, but those as has eyes let ’em see, and 
those as has ears let ’em hear,” and Mrs. Morrell by 
this time having reached the bottom of the flight, 
and turned into the passage that led to another flight, 
went on with her head very high indeed. 

^ “It’s queer eyes that wouldn’t see it’s family wash- 
( ing she’s doing,” said Mrs. Tappan, but Mrs. Mor- 
|‘ rell laughed. It amused her to let that hateful Mrs. 

I Tappan think for awhile she was actually driven to 
do family washing, and she chuckled to herself as 


282 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT, 


she pictured Mrs. Tappan’s anger when she found 
out her mistake, and she went on full of delight. 
One great cause of her pleasure was Mrs. Tavish’s 
ignorance of who was doing Mrs. Blun’s washing ; 
she supposed of course that Mrs. Morrell had found 
some one to do it. 

When Mrs. Morrell, perspiring under her load, 
rang the basement bell of Mrs. Blun’s house, Jane 
came to the door ; she asked kindly for Mrs. Tavish, 
and while she took the basket of clothes she bade 
Mrs. Morrell seat herself ; then she said : 

“ I told Mrs. Blun all that you told me last Mon- 
day to tell her, about Mrs. Tavish’ s sickness and how 
much she needed money, and how you had under- 
taken to do the clothes as a kindness to Mrs. Tavish, 
and that you’d be thankful to get the money to-day 
when you brought the clothes home. I told her all 
that last Monday, right after you left here, and to- 
day, when I saw her getting ready to go out I told 
her again about the bill, and how it was due now over 
a month, and I asked her to leave the money with 
me for you — 

‘‘And didn’t she?” interrupted Mrs. Morrell too 
much out of patience to wait for Jane to finish. 

“ No, she didn’t,” said Jane, '‘and what was more 
Mrs. Blun said she didn’t believe Mrs. Tavish could 
be in such need, and anyway that Mrs. Tavish would 
have to wait a few days longer for she was not ready 
to pay the bill just then.” 

“ Oh, them’s the rich people for you,” said Mrs. 
Morrell wiping her face, “ so long as they themselves 
have full and plently it’s no matter about anyone 
else.” 

“I’ll tell you what to do,” Jane went on again, 
“ for it’s a shame that poor Mrs. Tavish should be 
put off this way when she’s earned the money and it 
isn’t that Mrs. Blun hasn’t it ; her husband gives 
her money to pay every bill promptly. I’ve seen 
him do it, and I’ve heard him tell her to pay the bills 


A CEI VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 283 

without any delay. He’s an odd man, but he’s an 
honest man, and he’s given ber the money for Mrs. 
Tavish I’m sure ; but she’s spent it, and if you’ll go 
to bis store, it^s not so very far from here, just down 
on Broadway, and tell the case to him, be’ 11 pay you, 
but don’t let him, or anybody else know that / told 
you to go there.” 

Mrs. Morrell’s little eyes twinkled. 

“That’s just what I’ll do,” she said, “see himself. 
The men are always better than the women when it’s 
a matter of justice to a woman, and you needn’t be 
afraid that I’ll tell who it was that put me up to go 
to him.” 

Waiting only to have the clothes taken out of the 
basket she set forth for Mr. Blun’s store. There, 
when met by Mr. Blun, she made a deep courtesy, 
keeping the big basket all the time on her arm. 

Mr. Blun looked at her : she was so very big, and 
she was dressed so gaudily, having on a very light 
colored calico dress, a very small black silk cape, and 
a bonnet much too small to set properly on her fluffy 
hair ; then the bonnet had orange colored strings 
which being untied because of the heat, hung like 
bright streamers on each side of her immense bosom. 

Mr. Blun made up his mind that she was a most 
undisciplined woman, and he asked in a very severe 
tone : 

“ What is your business with me 

Mrs. Morrell put her basket down and placed her 
feet together evenly on the floor ; then she said : 

“ Am I speaking to Mrs. Blun’s husband ?” 

“ You are speaking to Mr. Blun,” he replied very 
severely, in order to put down at once the attempt 
to place his wife first. 

“ Well, it’s all the same, I suppose,” looking down 
at him in a way that made the clerks laugh to them- 
selves, “ whether you’re Mister, or not, doesn’t mat- 
ter to me. But I wanted to be sure that you were 
Mrs. Blun’s husband, because I want you to pay 
Mrs. Blun’s washing bill,” 


284 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


She stopped a moment to take breath, and Mr. 
Blan not knowing that Mrs. Tavish was not doing 
the work as usual, thought there must be some mis- 
take. 

“You have made a great blunder, woman,” he said, 
“ I never hired you to do the washing of my family.’’ 

“Just wait a minute, Mr. Blun ; whatever blunder- 
ing there’s in it, it’s on your side for not paying your 
bills yourself instead of giving your wife the chance 
to spend the money for something else,” and then, 
after she had drawn a long breath, she gave the full 
account of how she happened to be doing the work 
instead of Mrs. Tavish. 

Mr. Blun was amazed and indignant, but he did 
not say a word till she had finished. Then he turned 
to one of the clerks. 

“lam going out ; I may be gone three, or four 
hours.” Then he turned to Mrs. Morrell, saying 
shortly : 

“ Come with me.” 

She, wondering very much, took up her basket 
and followed him, but when they gained the street, 
she stepped out boldly beside him. They were a 
strange looking pair, made stranger looking still by 
the speed with which Mr. Blun walked, and which 
made Mrs. Morrell pant to keep up with him. Then 
her face was as red as it could well be, and her 
orange colored strings fioated behind her like the 
streamers of a fiag. 

As they turned the corner of a street that led out 
of Broadway they came full upon Lizzie leaving the 
studio. She was so surprised that she stood as if she 
were fastened to the sidewalk. Mr. Blun with 
his mouth tightly shut, and his eyes looking no- 
where but just in front of him, took no notice of 
her, and Mrs. Morrell finding it as much as she could 
do to keep up with the little gentleman, put her fin- 
ger to her lip and shook her head as signs to Lizzie 
that she was to say nothing of what she saw: but 


A OHIVALROVS DERD, AND WIlAT CAME OF IT. 2S5 

Lizzie stood looking after them till the amusing sight 
of the little man walking so quickly, and the big 
woman with the big basket, and the orange colored 
streamers, almost running to keep up with him, made 
her laugh. Then, all at once she thought to follow 
them. She knew the little man was Mr. Blun, and 
calling to mind the strange actions of Mrs. Morrell 
during the week, and what Nanny Tavish had told 
her about a friend having hired some one to do Mrs. 
Blun’s washing till her mother should get better, she 
wondered could it be that Mrs. Morrell herself was 
doing this work. But, if that were the case, why was 
Mr. Blnn with Mrs. Morrell? What did it all mean, 
and why did Mrs. Morrell want to hide it ? Thus think- 
ing she kept at a very safe distance till she saw them 
both go up the steps of Mr. Bliin’s house, where Mr. 
Blun opened the door with his latch key, and sent 
Mrs. Morrell, basket and all into the house in advance 
of him. 

Then Lizzie was only kept from running home and 
telling Dad all about it, by recollecting the signs 
Mrs. Morrell had made to her. 

When Mr. Blun entered the house he rang for 
Jane, and when Jane came, and saw who was with 
Mr. Blun, she was much frightened ; she did not 
think fora moment that what she had told Mrs. Mor- 
rell to do, would end in this way. 

‘‘ Is Mrs. Blun in ?” he asked. 

“Yes sir ; she came in a few minutes ago.” 

“ Tell her if she has taken her bonnet off, to put it 
on again and to come here.” 

Jane went to give the message, her heart beating 
very rapidly. What was the odd little man going 
to do now ? In spite of her pity for Mrs. Tavish, she 
began to feel some pity for Mrs. Blun. 

Mrs. Blun had not had time to remove her bonnet 
because she bad gone directly to the looking glass 
to hold up to her fair face some light blue China silk. 
She had just returned from buying it with the money 
that should have gone to pay Mrs. Tavish. 


286 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WE A T CAME OF IT. 


That money had haunted and tempted her for a 
week, and fondly expecting to go to a party at the 
Ingoldsbys in a few weeks, the silk with white lace 
trimmings would be just the thing to make a dress ; 
and as she thought how becoming it would be, and 
how useless to ask her husband for money to get it, 
she made up her mind to brave his anger and buy it 
herself. 

Jane, seeing that her mistress had not put off her 
bonnet, said nothing about that part of Mr. Blun’s 
message ; nor did she tell who was with Mr. Blun ; 
but she added so that her mistress would make 
haste. 

“ Mr. Blun seems in a great hurry ; he’d like you 
to come right away.” 

“Very well, Jane,” and she put the roll of silk 
out of sight, and tripped lightly down to the par- 
lor. The door was open, her husband standing near 
the threshold, and almost beside him, the big coarse 
looking woman holding before her with her arms 
folded through its handle, a large empty clothes 
basket. 

Mrs. Blun started back too much astonished to 
have voice enough to ask what the scene meant. 
But her husband said : 

I want you to come out with this woman and 
me, Mrs. Blun.” 

Mrs. Blun recovered her voice. 

‘•Out with you in company with that creature ? 
what do you mean ?” 

Mrs. Morrell straightened herself. 

‘*1 desire, Mrs. Blun, that you do as I said, im- 
mediately,” repeated her husband. 

“ What for ?” demanded the lady. 

Though this was the first time she had seen Mrs. 
Morrell, the clothes basket told part of the story, 
and her own conscience the other part, but she 
thought it better to pretend that she did not under- 
stand it at all. 


A GHIVA LRO U8 DEED, AND WHA T GAME 0 F IT. 287 

‘‘ You shall know what; for when we get where 
we are going,’’ Mr. Blun said. 

‘‘But I don’t want to go ; tell me what the busi- 
ness is, here.” 

Mr. Blun raised his voice and spoke more sternly. 

“ Once more, Mrs. Blun, I say that you are to 
come out with this woman and me ; if 3^ou refuse I 
shall go alone, and you shall take what will happen 
after.” 

“What would happen after.” That threat de- 
cided her, knowing that her husband could and 
would do the most disagreeable things, and after all 
perhaps it was not about the washerwoman’s bill. 

“ I’ll go,” she said shortly, but what was her hor- 
ror to find when they got to the street, that her hus- 
band after he had given his arm to her, offered Mrs. 
Morrell his other arm ; and Mrs. Morrell promptly 
took it. 

Mrs. Blun stopped short trying to release herself, 
but her husband held her tightly. 

“I shall not walk in such company,” she said 
hotly. 

“ Then, I shall make a scene here in the street,” 
Mr. Blun said with grim satisfaction, and know- 
ing he would do so, she again went on. A little 
further and they passed Helen and her companions 
of the private school. 

“Why, Helen ; there’s your father and mother,” 
said one of them, “and your father’s got a big fat 
washerwoman on his arm. Why, Helen, where are 
they going 

Helen was too much astonished to answer, and then 
her companions laughed at the amusing sight, for 
Mr. Blun was walking so rapidly his wife had to step 
out at a very lively pace to keep up with him, and 
Mrs. Morrell’s gay strings floated again behind her. 

Helen was overwhelmed with shame. 

“ The big fat one is your washerwoman, aint she, 
Helen?” said the girl who had spoken first, “ is she 


288 ^ ghivalhous deed, and what game of it. 


the mother of the little girl that was carrying your 
clothes home the other day, and that you said your 
mother wouldn’ t let you have anything to do with f ’ 

“No, she aint,” said Helen fiercely, and beginning 
to go toward her own house. 

“Oh, dear me ! you needn’tget so angry about it,” 
said the first speaker again, “it aint our fault if 
your father and mother keep company with a wash- 
erwoman though they don’t let you do it.” 

The last words were said with a childish sneer at 
which they all laughed again, and^ Helen went faster 
toward her own house. 

“ I don’t know as my mother would want me to 
play with any one whose parents keep company with 
washerwomen,” said a second little girl getting very 
bold as she saw how Helen retreated. 

A third child said : 

“People who go to public schools are common, 
anyhow.” 

Then the fourth and last of the little company 
said : 

“ Such airs as Helen Blun gave herself the other 
day : ha, ha !” 

The whole four Joined in the shout of laughter, and 
Helen ran from it, never stopping till she had placed 
the basement door between herself and them. 

In the meantime on went Mr. Blun and his com- 
panions, not a word being spoken by either. Blun 
heard on one side Mrs. Morrell panting, and on the 
other his wife gasping from anger. They were going 
to the home of Mrs. Tavish, Mr. Blun having so in- 
structed Mrs. Morrell before his wife joined them. 

What Mrs. Morrell’s thoughts were it was not easy 
to tell from her red excited face ; perhaps though, 
much as she had tried to hide from Mrs. Tavish how 
she herself had turned washerwoman in order to ben- 
efit Mrs. Tavish, she was not sorry that now the 
truth about it would come out. 

When they got to the house Mrs. Morrell drop- 


A OmVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OE IT. 289 

ping Mr. Blun’s arm, led the way with a very self 
satisfied manner. She brushed aside the dirty, half 
clad children who stared at her, and she feigned not 
to see the slovenly looking women who stared with 
as much curiosity as the children did. 

Mrs. Blun tried to hold back, begging : 

“ Don’t ask me to go in here, Elliott ; let me wait 
for you.” 

But he forced her on, answering : 

“ You must come in, Mrs. Blun.” 

And go in she did, actually on the heels of Mrs. 
Morrell. That good woman all out of breath still 
managed to say to the amazed Mrs. Tavish and 
Nanny : « 

“ I had to bring the pair of them ; Mr. Blun would 
have it so.” 

Mrs. Tavish rose from her chair, but she was not 
able to stand up straight on account of her back, and 
all she could say was : 

“ Is it possible, Mr. and Mrs. Blun.” 

Nanny who had been sitting at a table reading, 
rose also, dropping her book to the floor in her sur- 
prise, and not even thinking to pick it up. Mr. Blun 
had noticed the perfect cleanliness and order of the 
room ; he had also noticed its poverty. 

He waved his hand as if he were making a speech, 
from his wife to Mrs. Tavish, saying to his wife : 

‘‘Behold, woman! your work! this widow was 
sick and in want. The sum of ten cents alone re- 
mained to her and her offspring. She sends that off- 
spring to you for tlie just and propor payment of 
her bill for your washing. What answer does she 
receive? let your undisciplined soul answer. A 
friend, this woman,” waving his hand at Mrs. Morrell, 
“ not able to find a laundress who would do the wash- 
ing of your family, undertakes to do it herself. She 
leaves word at your house, that you may not forget 
the payment of your just debt when she returns the 
clothes. What "answer does she again receive ? let 


290 ^ CniVALROVS DEED, AND WUAT CAME OF IT. 

your undisciplined soul once more tell. This woman 
comes to me and I have brought you here that you 
may give testimony to the discipline which I en- 
deavor to keep in my l‘amil3^ Where, Mrs. Blun, 
is the money I gave you to pay this bill two weeks 
ago 

“ What a man for a husband ! ” said Mrs. Morrell 
to herself, “but for all that he told my case just 
lovely.’’ 

Mrs. Blun was trembling not from fear but from an- 
ger and shame. 

“ How dare you bring me to this place on such an 
errand ? ” she said, s^Jeakingso loud that it was well 
Mrs. Morrell had taken care to shut the door tightly, 
“ and how dare you bring me to account before these 
people for what I did with your money ? I spent it. 
There!” 

Mrs. Tavish only then seemed quite to understand 
it, and she said in real distress : 

“ Oh, Mr. Blun, I am so sorry this has taken place. 
I didn't dream that Mrs. Morrell herself was doing 
the work, or that her kindness to me would lead her 
so far. T am thankful to her, but I am very sorry for 
Mrs. Blun.” 

Mrs. Morrell was disgusted. 

“ You needn’t be sorry for her,” she said, “ it’ll 
teach her not to let the poor suffer when she owes 
them anj’-thing, and though you’re a tartar of a man, 
Mr. Blun, I honor you for your sense of justice. 
Your name ought to be writ up on a monument for 
it.” 

“ Elliott, are you going to let that creature insult 
me?” said Mrs. Blun. 

“ I aint no creature,” put in Mrs. Morrell, mak- 
ing believe not to see the imploring look of Mrs. 
Tavish, “I’m a woman as good as you are.” 

Mr. Blun was taking out his pocket book and 
speaking to Mrs. Tavish. 

“ Your bill for the month is twelve dollars.’ 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WNA T GAME OF IT. 291 


She said “ yes,” in a low tone. 

He added two dollars to the amount. 

“That is ro make up for Mrs. Blun’s delay in 
paying you, and in future present your bill at my 
store.” 

Then he turned to his wife. 

“ VVe shall go now.” 

Mrs. Morrell opened the door for them, courtesy- 
irig to Mr. Blun, and saying to Mrs. Blun, whos'e 
face was scarlet from her hair to her neck. 

“Don’t have hard feelings, ma’am; it’s all for 
your own good.” 

But Mrs. Blun shot by her, out of the hall and 
down the steps, and only that it was daylight she 
would have run to get away from her husband. As 
it was, she was obliged to let him overtake her, ro 
put her arm again through his, and to listen to a 
lecture on his horrible discipline. The only com- 
fort she had was the thought of the China silk 
which she had in spite of him. 

“Mrs. Morrell shut the door again as soon as 
husband and wife were well out, and she, and Mrs. 
Tavisii, and Nanny looked at each other, but before 
any one spoke, Mrs. Morrell thinking of the amus- 
ing scenes of the afternoon, began to laugh, and 
she laughed so heartily that she had to put her fat 
hands on her sides and let the tears stream down 
her cheeks, Nanny laughed too, for the sight of Mrs. 
Morrell was as amusing as any of the scenes which 
made that good woman herself laugh, and Mrs. 
Tavish, trying to look grave, ended by laughing as 
heartily as either of her companions. And when 
Mrs. Morrell, recovering her breath, described all 
the comical things that had happened, the laughter 
of all three was renewed. It was some time before 
Mrs. Tavish could find voice to say : 

“I don’t know how to thank you, Mrs. Morrell. 
I never dreamed that you would do the washing 
yourself.” 


^92 ^ CHIVALROtJS Dmi), AND WHAT CAME OJrif. 


“If you say another word you’ll take away all 
my pleasure,” said Mrs. Morrell, “it’s been as 
good as a play for me, and I’m so proud you got 
your money. "You’ll never have any trouble about 
it again.” 

Mrs. Tavish bit her lip and looked down. She 
would much rather have suffered than have had Mrs. 
Blun made so much ashamed, but how could she say 
so to Mrs. Morrell without seeming to be displeased 
with what that ignorant but kind hearted woman 
had done in all charity. Mrs. Morrell not dreaming 
of what Mrs. Tavish was thinking, went on : 

“I didn’t see Mrs. Blun last Monday when I went 
for the clothes, and I’m thinking theie’s little dan- 
ger of her coming in my sight next Monday when 
I go for them.” 

Here was another puzzling thought for Mrs. Tav- 
ish. She did not know what were Mrs. Morrell’s 
circumstances ; whether she did even the washing of 
her own family. In her doubt she ventured to say : 

I am getting well so fast, I think I could do the 
clothes next week.” 

Mrs. Morrell would not listen to such a thing. 
She had plenty of time, she said, and she did not 
mind the work. 

“Then you must take pay for it,” ventured Mrs. 
Tavish again, and beginning to roll up the bills Mr. 
Blun had given her. 

Mrs. Morrell stopped her. 

“I have full and plenty, Mrs. Tavish, with no 
want for anything; and it’d be a shame when the 
Lord gives me a chance to do a kind act if I didn’t 
do it. So, don’t say anything more.” 

And the matter rested. 


A CHIVA LRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 293 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

Lizzie Moerell was a very much puzzled little girl, 
and the more she tried to explain to herself the queer 
actions of Mrs. Morrell the more puzzled she became. 
Mrs. Morrell and Mrs. Tavish did not even know 
each other, how then could it be that Mrs. Morrell 
was doing Mrs. Blun’s family washing for Mrs. Tav- 
ish ? beside, if such were the case would not Nanny 
have told her % And it could not be surely that Mrs. 
Morrell hearing in some way of Mrs. Blun’s need of 
a washerwoman had taken the work so as to earn 
money for herself. If only she could tell her uncle 
wdiat a relief it would be, even though he should not 
be able to help her to understand it : but she still felt 
bound by a feeling of honor not to say anything. 

She was walking very slowly, and she was think- 
ing so deeply, that she did not notice when she 
reached the undertaker’s shop,, nor did she see 
Thimig who, as usual was standing in the doorway. 

“ Lizzie,” he called timidly. 

She stopped and looked up at him. 

Won’t you come in a minute ? I has something 
on my mind as worries it like a crooked screw wot’s 
got in and has to come out.” 

Lizzie went into the shop but she would not sit 
down. They were quite alone and Thimig went on : 

“ Lizzie, if there was a boy once,, wot never did no 
harm, but wot was always a being blamed and a 
gettin’ hisself into scrapes without any fault of his’n, 
would you be sorry for that ere boy?’’ 


294 ^ GRIVALR0U8 DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT, 

Lizzie wanted to laugh, but she was touched by the 
tone of his voice, and the imploring look in his big, 
stupid eyes, and she said without even smiling : 

Of course I would.” 

“And if that boy, Lizzie, was a coniiii’ from an 
errand, an errand wot had no questions answered, 
and he was run into by a big animal and sent a spin- 
ning till be felt like as if the sky had come down to 
the sidewalk, and the sidewalk had a flew uji to the 
sky, would you a felt sorry for that ere boy, Lizzie?” 

This time it was very hard to keep from laughing 
and Lizzie only nodded ; she could not trust her- 
self to speak. She thought the animal he spoke of 
was a runaway horse. 

And if that boy, Lizzie, when he picked hisself 
up was so lluTiimered that he didn’t know hisself, 
and if he was so scared by that animal that he hadn’t 
no wits left, would you a been sorry still for that ere 
boy, Lizzie ?” 

Lizzie smiled, but she managed to say : 

“ I should have been very sorry for him.” 

“And if Lizzie, when that animal wot so flum- 
mered that boy that he forgot hisself entirely— that 
he didn’ t think of no questions answered, but just 
went and let out to that animal all questions an- 
swered, would you a been sorry still for that ere boy, 
and could you, oh, Lizzie, could you forgive that ere 
boy ?” 

“What do you mean ?” Lizzie asked, too full of 
wonder to care to laugh now, “I don’t understand 
all your talk about an animal.” 

“ Oh, Lor 1 and I can’t tell you, for I told that ere 
animal forty-four wild horses wouldn’t draw it out,” 
said Thimig wringing his hands. 

Lizzie lost all patience. 

“ Oleander Thimig, what did you call me in here 
for if you were not going to speak so I could under- 
stand you. I don’ t know what you’re talking about,” 

She turned to leave the shop. 


A CBIFALEOUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 295 

‘‘Oh, Lor !” he said again, “she won’t take and 
I can’t give, because I said forty-four wild horses 
wouldn’t draw it out.” 

Lizzie turned back. 

“ I was a talking of an animal.” 

“ I know you were,” she said, “ the funniest kind 
of an animal I ever heard of.” 

“ It had on a bonnet witli yaller strings.’' 

Lizzie’s face was a study from amazement, and 
the thought that broke into her mind all at once. 

“And a black cape, Lizzie,” Thimig went on, 
“and a calico dress wot showed her feet.” 

“Wliy, that’s Mrs. Morrell.” 

“ I said it was a animal, Lizzie ; and so it was a 
animal wot tlummered that boy so, he took that 
animal to where there was to be no questions an- 
swered.” 

Lizzie fairly jumped. 

“ Oleander Thimig, you don’t mean that you told 
on me to Mrs. Morrell, and took her to Mrs. Tavish’s 
house ?” 

Thimig fell on his knees, crying : 

“ I am the boy wot done it, Lizzie. I took that 
animal wot I didn’t tell you was Mrs. Morrell, to 
that woman wot had no questions answered, and I 
told that animal wot you sent me there for.” 

“ Oleander Thimig !” and the anger and disgust in 
his companion’s voice started the boy to bohooing 
aloud : 

I thought you wouldn’t pity that ere boy when 
you knowed it all,” he whimpered, “ but it was in 
my mind like a crooked screw and it had to come 
out.” 

“But I trusted you. Oleander, not to tell any- 
body, and now you’ve gone and actually told Mrs. 
Morrell.” 

Say that animal, Lizzie, because I told her forty- 
four wild horses wouldn’t draw it out of my bosom 
as to where she’d been; and they didn’t draw it 


296 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAl CAME OF IT. 

out ; it was you as drawed it out — you guessed who 
that animal was.” 

Lizzie’s anger gave way to laughter; the boy’s 
appearance was so amusing ; then, also she could 
forgive him for not having kept her secret since 
what he told her now made clear so much that had 
puzzled her. She said, still laughing : 

“ Get up Oleander, I forgive you ; I’m not a bit 
angry with you.” 

She did not add though, that she would never 
trust him with a secret again. 

He got up at once wiping his face with the cuff of 
his jacket, and as that had a good many dirt and 
dust marks on it, the same were left on his face. 
Then he held out his big, and not over clean hand. 

“ Will you shake hands, Lizzie, to kind of clinch 
your pardon like?” 

She shook hands and turned to go, but Oleander 
was not quite satisfied. He wanted to say some- 
thing in favor of the “animal,” by way of atone- 
ment for having told on it. 

“That ere animal, Lizzie, was a having mighty 
kind feelings to you. That ere animal said it was 
good of you to send that money wot went to no 
questions answered.” 

Lizzie pursed up her lips and raised her eyebrows, 
as if she did not quite believe in the kind feelings, 
but she made no answer, and Thimig made a little 
desperate by her silence, said again : 

‘‘That animal didn’t want you to know Lizzie, 
where she’d been.” 

“ Oh, I suppose not,” said Lizzie carelessly, break- 
ing from him, but when she reached the door she 
turned to say : 

“ I won’t tell that animal anything you’ve told me.” 

Thimig went to the door and looked after her ; 
then he went back and rubbed his face and his head 
as hard as he could, after which he sat down on one 
of the stools and said to himself : 


A CBIVALJiO U8 DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 297 


“I feels better. She thought I was a fool the 
other day when I talked so as to keep full in my 
bosom wot Mrs. Morrell wanted kept there ; least- 
ways Mr. Brush said as them was her thoughts. 
Now that was kinder hard, so to-day wlien 1 sees her 
I talks the other way. T didn’t tell on Mrs. Morrell — 
I put it in a obscure way, but Lizzie’s smart ; she 
ketches a fellow’s meaning before he knows what 
words he’s a goin’ to say. And she just got the 
whole thing in a minute like a boy wot’s eatin’ mince 
pie. So I feels easy.” 

Lizzie, however, did not feel so easy ; she could 
not understand why Mrs. Morrell knowing the er- 
rand Thimig had performed, had said nothing about 
it ; it was very unlike her, for according to her old 
fashion she would have scolded, and stormed, and 
made everybody very miserable. Then, for Nanny 
not to have told of Mrs. Morrell’s visit ; it seemed 
really unkind, and Lizzie’s cheeks began to burn with 
anger, and to burn more and more as she recollected 
Nanny’s little parting speeches abont thinking 
kindly of everybody. Did she mean them for Liz- 
zie because Lizzie did not think kindly of Mrs. Mor- 
rell? and then came the thought of Mrs. Morrell’s 
own changed conduct during the whole of the past 
week— her unusual kindness to Lizzie and tender- 
ness to her husband. 

Then she wondered if Mrs. Morrell bad told Mrs. 
Tavish who sent the five dollar gold piece, and if she 
had done so, why neither mother nor daughter had 
said anything ; perhaps they felt hurt and that was 
the reason of their silence. Altogether, Lizzie’s mind 
was in a sad state of doubt, dissatisfaction and won- 
der, and the only comfort she expected was telling 
her uncle all that Thimig had just told her. In tell- 
ing him she would not be breaking her word to 
Tliirnig, for she had only promised not to tell Mrs. 
Morrell, and Dad, she knew would make the same 
promise. If but she could have told also what she 


298 ^ CEIVALROVS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

had seen in the street that afternoon, what a light it 
might pour on to Dad’s mind, but she still felt bound 
to say nothing about that. 

Mr. Morrell awoke from his afternoon nap very 
contented and very cheerful. His improved health 
and a whole week of amiable humor from Maria 
had put him into the very best of spirits, and as he 
leaned back in the chair and looked at the parrot 
that had been dozing also, and that did not seem to 
want to wake up yet, he was a picture of smiling 
happiness, and he" was looking like that when Liz- 
zie came in. 

‘‘ Is Mrs. Morrell in ?” she asked quickly. 

“No, she went out soon after you did ; she went 
out by the kitchen door so I didn’t see her go.” 

“ Well, Dad, what do you think of all this?” and 
taking off her hat she threw herself on the floor be- 
side him, with her hands resting on one of his knees, 
and told him what she had heard from Thimig. 
She was too impatient to imitate the whole of Thim- 
ig’s odd manner and speech, but what she did 
give of it made her uncle laugii heartily and in- 
stead of being puzzled he said when she had finished: 

“All that proves what I’ve all along been saying, 
Lizzie, that Maria’s a good woman. To my mind 
it looks for certain, taken in connection with the 
things you saw last week, the heaps of clothes that 
didn’t belong to us, and the new basket peeping out 
of the closet, that Maria’s been a doing some wash- 
ing for Mrs. Tavish. You said Mrs. Tavish’s little girl 
told you a friend had got a washerwoman for her 
mother: that friend, Lizzie, Maria. 

He said the last words with a very wise air. 

“ And now,” he went on, “it’s this goodness of 
hers, this blessed goodness, as I may call it, that’s 
made her the way she’s been this week. Lizzie ; 
Maria’s a good woman, and I always said so.’’ 


A CHI VALRO DEUD, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 299 


CHAPTER XXX. 

Mrs. Morrell left Mrs. Tavish’s house, she 
was in such a good natured and happy humor, she 
smiled at everybody she met, and she forgot the big 
clothes basket on her arm till she was near her own 
home ; then, knowing that Lizzie would be in the 
kitchen getting supper, she felt that she could not 
go in without being seen by either her, or Bartholo- 
mew. 

The undertaker’s shop was near, and there she 
went to leave the basket till Monday. 

Luckily Mr. Brush was in the shop, for Thimig 
who was in the back part of the store, at the first 
sight of the large figure entering, went head and 
heels into a big, empty ice box that was beside him. 
He did it so quickly that Brush could not tell how, 
or where the boy had gone, and the shadows being 
deep about the place where Thimig had been stand- 
ing, Mrs. Morrell had not seen him. 

Oiiander’s not here,” she said, looking round. 

I’ll be blest if he wasn’t here two seconds ago,” 
said Brush, looking round also in startled wonder. 

‘‘Oh, don’t mind, Mr. Brush,” said Mrs. Morrell, 
“ it don’t make any difference. I only want to leave 
this basket here till Monday. It’s a load this warm 
evening to be carrying it up two flights of stairs, and 
as I’ll be wanting it Monday, it’ll be handy.” 

“ Oh, certainly, Mrs. Morrell ; leave it by all 
means — but where the dickens did that boy go V 


300 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


‘‘Don’t mind, Mr. Brush ; I didn’t want to see 
him in perticler, though Orlander and me is great 
friends. I have entire confidence in Orlander ; I’d 
trust him with anything. Though he’s not very 
smart, he’s very safe ; he’ll not tell a thing you tell 
him to keep secret.” 

“Oh, Lor! hear what that animal’s a saying,” 
groaned Thimig to himself. 

Brush stared at Mrs. Morrell, divided between 
amazement at the boy’s strange disappearance and 
astonishment at the woman’s extraordinary confi- 
dence in Tliimig. 

Mrs. Morrell turned to leave the store fanning her- 
self with an end of her cape as she went, and saying : 

“I’m obliged to you, Mr. Brush, and you’re sure 
the basket won’t be in the way.” 

“No, to be sure not ; but where in thunder did 
that boy go f ’ 

Mrs. Morrell having put down her basket was in- 
different to where Thimig had gone, and she went 
smiling on her way while Brush began a search. In 
a moment he saw the dark mass in the ice box. Tlie 
mass was beginning to move, and to the undertaker’s 
astonishment, Thimig raised himself up, his face 
black from perspiration and dust, and he said dole- 
fully : 

“ She’s gone, aint she ?” 

“ Yes. slie’s gone. But why did you hide ? what 
are you afraid of her for ?” 

“I aint afraid of her,” he said, with all his stu- 
Xfidity not liking to be thought a coward, “ but when 
you’ve gone and called her a animal, and let some- 
thing wot she told you be drawed out of you, what’s 
a feller to do, eh, Mr. Brush?” 

And the better to hear what Mr. Brush would ad- 
vise, Thimig sat down on the edge of the ice box with 
his hands on his knees, and his face turned up to Mr. 
Brush with such a dirty and woe-begone look that 
Brush roared with laughter. 


A CmFALBOUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 301 

‘'And you’re the one she has such confidence in,” 
he said as soon as he could speak. 

“ That’s wot troubles me, Mr. Brush, and it troub- 
led me when I was a lyin’ here a smotherin’ in 
this ere box, and heard her say that. But wot’s a 
feller to do when some one wot he has a regard for 
thinks he’s a fool because he can’t tell something. 
He aint going to stand that, and he tells it in a ob- 
scure way, but that person wot he has a regard for 
is smart, and she ketches wot he said he wouldii’ t 
tell. Now, what’s a feller to do in them circum- 
stances, Mr. Brush?” 

But Mr. Brush could give no advice for such cir- 
cumstances ; he could only laugh till he was tired, 
and then he said : 

“ Thimig, you’re the biggest clown out of a circus.” 

Mrs. Morrell went home with, to use her own words, 
“a heart as light as a feather,” and going in by the 
door of her husband’s room she spoke to him so 
merrily that when she left him in order to take off 
the bonnet with the yellow strings and the black silk 
cape, he nodded to the parrot, and said to it softly — 
having no one else to speak to : 

“It’s her blessed goodness makes her so happy.” 

In the kitchen Mrs. Morrell said to Lizzie ; 

“It’s a great comfort to me, Lizzie, to have you 
so handy about the house. I don’t know what I’d 
do when I go out if it wasn’t for you.” 

But Lizzie made no reply. She did not know 
when Mrs Morrell’s temper might break forth again 
in spite of all her sweetness now, and she could not 
help feeling sore about Nanny Lavish. It never 
came into her mind that Mrs. Morrell might have 
told Nanny not to tell. 

Tlie next day Lizzie felt still worse when she 
thought of Nanny, she almost made up her mind 
not to pay her usual visit to see how Mrs. Lavish 
was getting on, but her uncle said when his wife 
was not listening : 


302 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WE A T CAME OF IT. 

“ Don’t be giving way to feelings like tliem, Liz- 
zie ; like as not they’re all wrong. Maybe ” a 

thought coming all at once to him — ‘‘ Maria told 
them not to say anything about her.” 

But for all that, Lizzie with her quick, open nat- 
ure, still felt hurt, and though she paid her visit 
to Nanny it was with such a cold, constrained man- 
ner that Nanny herself felt hurt, and Nanny, feel- 
ing that she had done nothing to deserve such cold- 
ness, was too proud to ask the reason. 

When Lizzie went, Nannj^ said with a sob to her 
mother : 

“Why do people act so? why didn’t she say 
what she was angry about ? it wasn’t like her a bit, 
mamma ; in school she says right out what she 
thinks.” 

But Mrs. Tavish knevv not what to answer; she 
could only try to comfort the child by saying there 
must be some mistake. 

On the Monday morning Mrs. Morrell got her 
basket from Mr. Brush’s own hands. He said 
Thimig was sick and wouldn’t be in the shop before 
the afternoon ; but tlieie was a twinkle in his eye 
as he spoke which did not seem to to be in accord 
with his words. Mrs. Morrell however, did not no- 
tice that, and she went on her way leaving Brush to 
laugh to himself at Thimig’ s illness which was noth- 
ing but fear of meeting Mrs. Morrell. 

Mrs. Morrell called for Mrs. Blun’s clothes, and 
when she was coming out of the area, she came up- 
on Helen who had been making saucy eyes at her 
companions of the private school ; they were stand- 
ing on the opposite walk. 

Mrs. Morrell stopped, and held out her hand. 

'‘Why you’re the little girl what came about my 
Lizzie, once, aint you? How do you do ?” 

A shout of laughter from the delighted little vix- 
ens opposite, who, though they did not hear what 


! A GHIVA LRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME 0 F IT. 303 

Mrs. Morrell said, saw her action, made Helen des- 
perate. 

“ 1 don’t shake hands with washerwomen,” she 
said, drawing back and getting very red. 

Mrs. Morrell got red also. 

^ ‘‘Don’t you dear ? well, your father didn’t mind 
giving his arm to a washerwoman,” and Mrs. Mor- 
rell resumed her way with her head very high, and 
her whole manner showing as much pride as though 
she owned a city. 

Helen dashed up the steps and rang the bell furi- 
ously, and when the door was opened she rushed to 
her mother’s room. 

Mrs. Blun was looking at the length and breadth 
of the China silk, the only thing she got any com- 
fort from since the awful shock of Saturda}^ 

The little girl with sobs told her story. She had 
told already of her terrible shame of Saturday, and 
had asked why Mrs. Morrell had been on her father’s 
arm, but Mrs. Blun had been too hurt and morti- 
fied herself to do more than deliver her own very 
unflattering opinion of Helen’s father : nor was she 
in much better humor now, and she said^ crossly : 

“ What can/do about it? If your ^father will 
walk with vulgar washerwomen on his arm, liow 
can I help it ? dear knows I have to bear enough 
from him.” 

Helen in her anger beat the floor with her 
hands. 

“My father giving his arm to that feather bed,” 
she said, “ what will the girls say when I go back 
to school? Of course Lizzie knows it, and she'll 
be glad enough in her spite to tell it.” 

But Helen’s troubles did not give Mrs. Blun a 
' thought. She was again absorbed in the China silk, 
and wondering how she could get enough money to 
buy a \^GeJic7iu to wear with it ; there would not 
be another opportunity to take the washerwoman’s 
money — indeed there was little opportunity fortak- 


304 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OP IT. 


ing any money, as Mr. Blun himself paid the wages 
o*f the servants and the bills of the house, and he gave 
to Mrs. Elun nothing more than an economical al- 
lowance for her own clothes and the clothes of the 
children. With regard to the clothes of the chil- 
dren Miss Luxor’s good nature was a great help, and 
in this case Mrs. Blun meant to tax it as much as 
possible. 

Mrs. Morrell having at length overcome her feel- 
ings about the “ inipidence of that one,” meaning 
Helen, — began to wish as she carried her load in 
the heat of the mid-day sun, that Bartholomew 
could know how very good she was. 

“There ain’t many,” she said to herself, “as 
would do such work in this killing weather, and all 
out of pure kindness,” and if her husband could only 
find it out without being told by herself, she would 
not feel in the least displeased. To be sure, if she 
herself had not so stupidly motioned to Lizzie not to 
tell, before this time Bartholomew would have asked 
what it meant, and his wife would have told him. 
But in the first glow of her charity to Mrs. Tavish, 
she had thought not to let her “left hand know 
what her figlit hand did,” and now she had to abide 
by Lizzie’s scrupulous sense of honor, and her hus- 
band’s stupid blindness. She little knew that her 
husband’s blindness was only pretended because he 
thought she did not want him to see, or know what 
she was doing. 

When she got home she bustled about her work 
a great deal so as to draw attention, and she let doors 
remain open in order that both her husband and 
Lizzie might see how hard she was working ; but 
neither of them showed any curiosity. And when 
the end of the week came without a question being 
asked, or a word said, she felt vexed, and waiting 
only to have Lizzie depart for the studio, she took 
the big basket she was about to fill with the freshly 
ironed clothes of the Bluns and went into her hus- 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 305 


band with it on her arm. He looked up from the 
paper he was reading and smiled, but not a word did 
he say, and then he looked down again. She rattled 
the basket but the noise did not disturb him. 

Provoked, she called a little sharply : 

‘‘Bartholomew!” 

He looked up and answered gently. 

“What is it, Maria?” 

“I have a basket.” 

“Yes, dear ; I see you have.” 

“ A new basket, Bartholomew.” 

“ So it looks, Maria.” 

“ A clothes basket, Bartholomew.’ 

“ Yes, dear.” 

Mrs. Morrell was losing all patience. 

“ Whose clothes do you think it’s for, Bartholo- 
mew?” 

“I don’t know, Maria ; I’m not a good hand at 
guessing.” 

The perspiration was steaming from her face, not 
so much in heat as in anger at his stupidity, and she 
put the basket down before him and wiped her face 
with her apron. 

He still looked at her smiling, but he said nothing. 

“ Bartholomew,” she began again, “do you sup- 
I)ose I’ve gone and bought a big basket like that for 
your clothes ? for the clothes of this famih’' ?” 

“I don’t know, Maria, you know I aint given to cal- 
kilating on what a woman does.” 

“ Well, it seems to me, Bartholomew, that when 
a woman’s been a brilin’ the way I’ve been over wash 
tub and iron, you might have calkilated a little on 
what she was doing, and if you had, Bartholomew, 
you’d a found out that you have a wife as takes care 
of the poor, as doesn’t let widows with abscesses and 
offsprings want when there’s a chance of doing work 
for them, and getting the pay for that work they 
aint able to get for themselves.” 

But her husband only looked and smiled still. 


306 ^ GBIVALRO VS DEED, AND WIIA T GAME OF IT. 


“ Aint you a going to ask, Bartliolomew, wliat 
your wife’s been doing ? aint you a going to show 
any interest when she’s been a sacrificin’ of herself for 
the poor, and a doing washing and ironing for a whole 
family ? aint you a going to say one thing Bartliol- 
omew, only sit there and look as if you were struck 

with the loss of speech ? oh, that it’s come to this” 

working herself up to the feeling that this silence on 

the part of her husband was cruel “that my own 

husband doesn’t care what I’m doing or how I may be 
killing myself,” and she covered her face with her 
apron. 

Mr. Morrell was amazed. “Maria he said, get- 
ting up from his chair and placing his hand affec- 
tionately on her shoulder, “ whatever have 1 done to 
make you go on this way !” 

“ It isn’t what you’ve done,” she answered, look- 
ing at him with one eye from the corner of her apron, 
“it’s what you haven’ t done ; why don’t you ask me 
what I’ve been doing, and all the week when you 
saw me working so, why didn’ t you say something ?” 

“Oh,” he answered, “is that the way you felt, 
Maria % and I thought I was pleasing you best by 
saying nothing. Of course I saw you engaged differ- 
ent from usual, but I know’d Maria, that whatever 
you were doing was all right, and that it would be 
unbecoming for me to be poldng into you’re mat- 
ters, especially, when I know you’re such a good 
woman, Maria, ^ut now, since you’re willing for me 
to know, tell me all about it.” 

Her anger fled at once, and making him take his 
seat, she took hers beside him, and told him all from 
her knocking against Thimig to the Jast amusing 
scene with Mr. Blun. 

Bartholomew laughed heartily saying as soon as 
his laughter would let him speak : 

“ You’re a wonderful woman, Maria.” Then he 
added in a tone that made the words seem like a 
blessing : “You’re a very good woman, Maria.” Mari^, 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WE A T GAME OF IT. 307 

was touched, and she said nothing for a moment. 

' Then she asked : 

“Didn’t Lizzie tell you how she saw me and Mr. 

I Blun together on the street?” 

! “ Not a word, Maria,” and then not being able to 

refrain from putting in a good word for his niece, he 
went on : 

“ That’s one thing about Lizzie ; you can depend 
on her for keeping a secret; don’t you think so, 
Maria ?” 

“ Oh yes ; and I knew that, when I signed to her 
in the street not to tell.” 

“ And then, Maria, she’s like you in another mat- 
ter ; she’s very good hearted — coming to me the 
way she did, willing to give up her drawing lessons 
so that I’d give her the money to send to Mrs. Tav- 
ish when she heard from Nanny that her mother 
hadn’t been paid by Mrs. Blun. Now, that was just 
like you, Maria.” 

Mrs. Morrell was in a glow of pleasure and pride, 
and her husband seeing that went on : 

“ To think how you’ve been hiding all your good 
works. Now I suppose you told Nanny Tavish and 
her mother not to say a word of what you’ve been 
doing.” 

“Of course I did. I didn’t want Lizzie to know 
that I was going there too, and I was that careful I 
got Orlander Tliimig to promise he wouldn’t tell a 
thing about me.” 

“And did he promise?” asked Mr. Morrell, with 
a twinkle in his eyes which his wife did not dream 
meant anything. 

“ Of course he (iid ; and he’d be afraid of bis life 
not to keep his promise. Oh, I had no fear of Or- 
lander telling on me.” 

“ Well, Maria, dear, after hearing all these won- 
derful things you’ve been telling, I feel as if I’d like 
to see this Mrs. Tavish and her little girl. Couldn’t 
you ask them to coltie here some evening next week ? 


308 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT, 


You say Mrs. Tavisli will be well enough to do her 
work again on Monday, and we can make their com- 
ing a suri^rise to Lizzie~not letting her know one 
word till they’re here.” 

Mrs. Morrell was delighted with the idea ; she 
liked Mrs. Tavisli and Nanny very much, and nothing 
would please her better than to have them come to 
see her. 

Mr. Morrell was pleased to have them come for two 
reasons ; one because of his own wish to make their 
acquaintance, the other because their coming might 
be a better means of making clear to Lizzie why they 
had been so secret about Mrs. Morrell ; better even 
than if he should tell her what his wife had said. 

Mrs. Tavisli hardly knew what to do when Mrs. 
Morrell invited her, she had so little time or wish to 
visit, but Mrs. Morrell seemed so disappointed and 
even hurt at the bare thought of a refusal, that Mrs. 
Tavisli could not find it in her heart to say no. Then 
also, like Mr. Morrell, she thought such a visit 
might be the means of making Lizzie and Nanny 
warm friends again ; Nanny was drooping and griev- 
ing over Lizzie’s changed manner. 

So she promised to go on the Friday evening com- 
ing, but not in time for tea ; that however did not 
keep Mrs. Morrell from making up her mind to have 
abundant refreshments, and when she spoke to Bar- 
tholomew about it, he told her to get anything she 
wan ted. 

Early in the week she began to prepare, and having 
noticed how clean and neat Mrs. Tavisli’ s room was, 
she resolved that her home should not be less so. 
Thus, a whole course of house gleaning was begun ; 
the contents of every room were turned upside down, 
and kept so for three whole days, making Mr. Morrell 
very uncomfortable, but he only smiled and said it 
was human nature. It annoyed Lizzie, for often, just 
as she was very busy with her drawing she had to 
stop, and change her place^ and move all her things, 


A OBI VALRO U8 DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 309 


but seeing bow much Mrs. Morrell enjoyed the gen- 
eral upset, and how seldom she herself was asked to 
help, she said nothing. She wondered at it all but 
she never dreamed what it was done for. On Thurs- 
day, however, when she returned from the studio, 
and found new curtains on the windows of the best 
room, a briglit new cover on the little centre table, 
and more than all a new cage for the parrot, she stood 
and stared in silent wonder at her uncle. Mrs. Mor- 
rell was scrubbing the kitchen floor and singing ; they 
could hear her when she raised her voice, all the 
doors between Mr. Morrell’s room and the kitchen 
being wide open. 

Mr. Morrell tried to look as if he did not know 
anything more than usual ; just smiling in his old 
way at Lizzie. 

“ What are they for?” Lizzie asked, “all these 
new things ; tell me. Dad.” 

But Dad drew down the corners of his mouth in 
an amusing way, pursed up his eye-brows, and 
said with a solemn shake of his head. 

“ Maria’s a very good woman, Lizzie. I always 
said she was. She may have been getting these 
things for our comfort.” 

“Not the cage for the parrot. Dad ; she’d never 
do that, because that would be for my comfort as 
the parrot is mine, and she never liked the parrot.” 

“ Yes ; but Lizzie, Maria’s been acting like an an- 
gel a good many days, now, and there’s no telling 
what angel like feelings she may be having for you.” 

But Lizzie had not much belief in the “ angel like 
feelings.” 

The next day she found Mrs. Morrell getting in a 
store of cake and confections, and lemons, and loaf 
sugar, and raspberry cordial, and caught her pol- 
ishing with a brand new peice of chamios, some 
brand new tumblers, and glass fruit dishes, and she 
rushed in to her uncle. 

“ Mrs. Morrell’s going to have a party, Dad ; she’s 


310 ^ CHIVALRO VS DEED, AND WIIA T CAME OF IT. 


got lots of tilings in the closet, and she’s been buy- 
ing new goblets.” 

“Has she?” said Dad very innocently, “ well, 
don’t you mind, Lizzie ; don’t ask her anything.” 

“Me, ask her anything,” she said with so much 
anger, that Mr. Morrell’s face fell. He had been 
fondly hoping tliat Lizzie’s feelings were changing 
to his wife now, that his wife herself was different 
from what she used to be ; but Lizzie’s tone and 
manner convinced him that he had been mistaken. 

Still, he could not let pass the opportunity for 
saying a good word for Maria. 

“Don’t you think, Lizzie, that Maria’s proved 
herself a good woman lately? she’s been showing 
great feeling for you, and if she has a little secret 
and it makes her happy neither you nor I ought to 
mind about it, dear.” 

“ But I hate all these secrets,” said Lizzie, feeling 
very sore about Nanny’s secret, “ why can’t Mrs. 
Morrell do things openly? she hasn’t anything to 
be afraid of ” 

“Make allowances for human nature, Lizzie-; 
some people’s given that way, and it aint best al- 
ways to quarrel with the queer things of human 
nature. But, Maria’s a good woman, Lizzie.” 

That evening after their early supper, and when the 
dishes had been washed and put away, and every- 
thing shone from the scouring and the polish of the 
late house cleaning, Lizzie was much astonished by 
hearing Mrs. Mori’eil tell her husband to put on his 
best clothes, and Lizzie to put on her Sunday dress ; 
she herself was going to put on her yellow lawn. 

Lizzie looked at her uncle ; he fixed his mouth as 
if he were saying : 

“ It’s human nature ; but Maria’s a good woman.” 

When they were all dressed and waiting. Mrs. 
Morrell gave them many starts by running to the 
door when she heard footsteps in the entry. It was 
not till she had three, or four disappointments that 


A CmVALIiOaSBESD, AJVD WHAT GAME OF IT. 311 

a knock came at last, and Mrs. Morrell in a flutter 
of importance and delight opened the door. 

“ Mrs. Tavish !” said Lizzie in astonishment, when 
she saw who Mrs. Morrell was ushering in, and then 
catching a glimpse of Nanny, in the shadow of her 
mother’s skirts, she bounded forward with real de- 
light and the two kissed each other with all their 
old affection. 

Mrs. Morrell with an air of fond pride introduced 
her husband, and Mrs. Tavish thought she had 
never seen a homelier, but at the same time a kind- 
lier face. It was a face she trusted at once without 
knowing why, and she had a singular feeling that 
one day she would need to trust it. 

Mr. Morrell was equally well pleased with Mrs. 
Tavish; he admired her neat, plain black dress 
much more than he did the sun flower dress of his 
wife. But his wife was very happy. She bustled 
from mother to daughter, and from daughter to 
mother, trying to make both very comfortable, and 
asking at the same time about Mrs. Tavish’ s health, 
and telling in the same breath how much better Bar- 
tholomew was, and how glad she was they had come. 
But it all served to show liow very welcome they 
were. 

Lizzie brought Nanny to the parrot, and she tried 
to make the bird speak and show his tricks ; but 
the parrot was sleeping, and the most Lizzie could 
get him to do was to rouse himself lazily for a minute 
and say : 

“ Polly’s gone to bed.” 

Nanny laughed ; she thought it very amusing. 
While they watched the parrot noddingto sleep again, 
Lizzie told how surprised she was at the visit of Nan- 
ny and her mother and then, Nanny, feeling that she 
was not expected to keep Mrs. Morrell’s kindness 
a secret any longer, told all about it ; that brought 
from Lizzie all about how she had felt to Nanny, and 
the two little girls became as warm friends as ever. 


312 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OE IT. 

“But how did Mrs. Morrell find out where we 
lived, or anytliing about us asked Nanny, still 
puzzled, “ Mamma and I thought of course you 
told her, and now you say you didn’t tell her a 
word.” 

“ And I didn’t,” said Lizzie. She could give no 
other answer without telling who had sent the five 
dollar gold piece. 

^‘Then, I’m bothered about another thing,” said 
Nanny again, poking her fingers through the bars 
of the cage. 

“ When you thought it was so mean of me not to 
tell you Mrs. Morrell had been to see us, how did 
you know it? all the time she was making us keep 
it secret, she wasn’t telling it herself, was she ?” 

“No, no;’' said Lizzie quicklj^ “I heard of it 
by chance.” 

Just then Mrs. Morrell called Lizzie, and in a few 
minutes they both came from the kitchen, Mrs. 
Morrell carrying a large, well-filled tray, and Lizzie 
a big pitcher of lemonade. After that, *the pleasant, 
kindly feelings of everybody seemed to increase, 
and Mr. Morrell could not refrain from saying that 
his wife was a good woman though he begged the 
company to excuse him for telling it in her presence, 
“But,” he went on turning to Mrs. Tavish, “she’s 
been such a good wife to me through my long sick- 
ness,” at which Mrs. Morrell cried out that she had 
not been half good enough to him. 

Then Mrs. Tavish in her quiet way, told of Mrs. 
Morrell’s kindness to her, at which Bartholomew 
glowed in the face like a girl, rubbed his hands with 
delight, and whispered to Lizzie : 

“I’m proud of Maria.” 

Lizzie however did not share in his pride about her 
aunt, nor could all the good things she heard of Mrs. 
Morrell weigh against that vulgar looking lawn 
dress, — bringing as it did thoughts of the unfortu- 
nate examination day — and Mrs. Morrell’s unrefined 


A CmVALRO US DEED, AND WUAT GAME OV IT. 31^ 

manners. Then Mrs. Morrell told in her amusing way 
all about the Bluns till even Lizzie laughed ; she 
only stopped laughing when her aunt began to tell 
how she, Lizzie, had met her with Mr.Blun. 

‘‘ Bu 1 1 shook my head at her,” she went on, “and 
she never said a word about it, which does you great 
honor Lizzie,” turning with a grand patronizing air 
to the little girl, “it shows you have gumption, and 
a very proper and discreet mind of your own.” 

Lizzie wanted to make a face expressive of her dis- 
gust at such praise, but her uncle’s hand was pres- 
sing one of hers. 

Mrs. Morrell went on : 

“ It’s queer how things come about ; now the first 
time I went to your house, Mrs. Tavish, it was all 
through Orlander Thimig.” 

“ Maria !” her liusband said in a tone that warned 
his wife to say no more ; he was afraid the feelings 
of his guests would be hurt, while Lizzie in her 
fright lest her aunt should disclose the secret of the 
five dollar gold piece, got up so quickly from her 
chair that it fell over, and all this put Mrs. Morrell 
into a great fiurry, and made the guests wonder. 

Mrs. Morrell to hide her fiurry said to Lizzie : 

“ You shouldn’t have taken that chair, Lizzie ; it 
was always ricketty on its hind legs , get another 
one.” 

And Lizzie got another one making all the noise 
she could to drown her aunt’s voice. 

But her aunt went on, saying to her husband and 
raising her voice above Lizzie’s. 

“ Were you going to ask me anything Bartholo- 
mew, about Orlander ?” 

By saying that Mrs. Morrell thought to cover up 
any blunder she had made. 

‘‘ Yes, no Bartholomew answered, quite puz- 
zled by this sudden turning of Thimig upon him, and 
Lizzie was so angry she put the chair she had 
brought down with a thump that made everybody 
start. A hax)py thought came to Mr. Morrell. 


314 ^ CniVALRO US DEED, AND WUA T CAME OF IT. 

Don’ t you think Maria, the company would like 
to see some of Lizzie’s drawings ?” 

Maria said at once : 

“ To be sure they would. Lizzie get them.” 

At another time Lizzie would have shrunk from 
showing her work, but now she was not sorry for the 
means it afforded to get Mrs. Morrell’s mind away 
from Thimig ; and while she was gone Mrs. Morrell 
told all about the wonderful good luck in the art 
gallery. She was in the midst of her account when 
Lizzie returned with the sketches. 

Mrs. Tavish knew too little about art to be a judge 
of the drawings but she thought they were wonder- 
ful for a child of Lizzie’s age, and she praised them 
warmly. Nanny felt a little throb of envy — what 
were all her rhymes and stories compared to such 
work as this ? then looking into Lizzie’s blush- , 
ing, happy face she felt ashamed of herself, and to 
make up for it she threw her arms round Lizzie’s 
neck, and said : 

“ Your drawings are beautiful ; in school you 
know you always beat all the other girls. 

‘‘ Tell them about the gentleman who paid you for 
your picture,” said Mrs. Morrell. 

Lizzie did so, Mrs. Tavish saying at the close of the 
account : 

And you do not even know his name 

‘‘ No ; 1 did not hear it once.” 

If Lizzie could have told his name how different 
would have been Mrs. Tavish’ s feelings. 

Mrs. Morrell served more refreshments ; Mr. Morrell 
told an amusing story of his boyhood, and Lizzie re- 
cited a little piece that she had learned when she went 
to the primary school ; then Mrs. Tavish asked Nanny 
to repeat some of the rhymes she had composed her- 
self, but Nanny shrunk from repeating any of them, 
and when at length she yielded to the urging she did 
so with a very red face, and a very much abashed 
manner. Mrs. Morrell said they were wonderful, 


A CHIYALRO US DEED, AND WITA T GAME OE IT, 315 


and Mr. Morrell said it was very feeling the way 
Nanny brought heart to rhyme with part, and rose 
with nose, while Lizzie asked Nanny to write them 
for her sometime, and Mrs. Tavisli was both proud 
and delighted. But the little rhymester herself never 
felt so dissatisfied ; she thought her verses did not 
sound well at all when she said them out like that. 

Mrs. Tavish got up to go home ; but Mrs. Morrell 
would show her every room first — she had not done 
so much house-cleaning for her visitors to go no fur- 
ther than the best room. Lizzie’s room was the last 
exhibited ; there was no table upside down, nor easel 
made out of an old clothes horse. Everything 
was neat and orderly, andNanny looking at it thought 
how happy she must be to have a whole room to her- 
self. Mrs. Tavish was thinking of the one poor lit- 
tle apartment in which she and her child lived ; but 
then she had her child and what would a palace be 
were she deprived of her. 

Thus, the evening, a rare one to Mrs. Tavish, came 
to a close, and hosts and guests parted with warm 
feelings on both sides, and cordial invitations from 
Mr. and Mrs. Morrell to come soon again. 

Mr. Morrell snatched an opportunity to say quiet- 
ly to Lizzie : 

“ Its all right now, aint it between you and 
Nanny 

Yes, Dad ; it’s all right.” 

“ I knew it would be, Lizzie, when you and she’d 
come together, here, and that’s why I didn’t let on 
who Maria was preparin’ for ; but 5^ou don’t mind 
now, that I didn’t tell you ?” saying the hist words 
with a look of affection that went to the child’s heart. 

No, Dad ; I love you so much that I don’t mind 
anything you do.” 

Nanny said to her mother as they walked home. 

I wish we had a whole floor like the Morrells, 
Mamma.” 

“ I wish we had, dear,” Mrs. Tavish said. 


^16 A bmVALROUS AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER XXXL 

In the early days of October the Ingoldsbys moved 
into their fine city house. Egbert paid all the bills 
to the great satisfaction of his step-father and Ed- 
win, and as he did not seem to mind how much 
money he spent they were all the more pleased. 
What they did not quite like was his always speaking 
of the house as his ; they did not know what queer 
things he might do in his own house ; still they 
hoped for the best, and when they saw how lavish 
and elegant everything was, they tried to put away 
their fears. They did wish he would give a party, 
and that it would be in keeping with the splendor of 
the place ; they even ventured to hint that they ex- 
pected something of the sort, but Egbert only smiled. 
Cornelia was very happy ; whether Egbert gave a 
party or not, did not trouble her, so long as she was 
let alone — not forced to hear the complaints and bear 
the scolding of her father and brother. She did 
■wonder a little when they had been nearly two weeks 
in the new house, that Egbert had said nothing of 
the Bluns ; she thought perhaps he had changed his 
mind about keeping up an acquaintance with them 
and she was rather sorry, for if so she would have no 
means of hearing of Nanny Tavish. But Egbert was 
only taking his time to carry out a little plan he had 
formed, and at the end of the two weeks, coming 
upon his sister one day in one of the parlors, he 
pointed to a space on the wall between two fine paint- 
ings ; and said : 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 317 


I shall have that little drawing of Lizzie MorrelFs 
hung there.” 

Miss Ingoldsby having seen the drawing, §aid in 
dismay : 

Egbert : you surely would not have that crude 
thing placed between those masterpieces F’ 

‘‘Why not? the painters of those masterpieces 
may have done just such crude work at first ; at all 
events I shall have it so, for I am going to liave her 
here, the week after next. Your father and brother 
have dropped several hints that it would be the proper 
thing for me to give a party — a society party, I 
suppose ; and I have made up my mind to give one ; 
one of my parties, as this is m?/ house lean give any 
kind of a party I choose, but the invitations can go 
forth in the name of Ingoldsbj’' ; that will gratify our 
blue-blooded relatives. At this party T am going to 
have this little Lizzie Morrell, Mr. and Mrs. Blun, 
their daughter, Helen, and that Miss Luxor you said 
you were so pleased with. Those will be my friends. 
You, of course, can invite any one you wish to, and 
I shall let father and Edwin invite a few of their 
friends. We don’t want the party too large. Twenty- 
five, or thirty people will be enough.” 

Cornelia beginning to feel very weak about the 
knees, sat down. Her brother went on. 

“ We won’t invite the very little folks this time, 
keeping that pleasure for a few weeks later : and 
this party will be the means of getting Lizzie Morrell 
to know that poor little Helen Blun — it will do her 
good to know Lizzie ; and the party will also gratify 
Mrs. Blun. She wanted so much to be invited to 
one, so as to see society.” 

If Egbert had not looked so grave, Cornelia surely 
would have thought he was joking; but he never 
seemed more serious, and she said : 

“ Am I to invite grown up people to meet thesQ 
two children ?” 

He stroked bis, tpustache before he said : 


318 ^ CHIVALROVSDEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

“Invite a naif dozen mothers that you know, 
mothers of little daughters — I don’t want any boys — 
and the daughters must be not much older, nor 
younger than our two little friends.” 

“Then it will be a child’s party,” said Cornelia, 
hardly knowing whether to be vexed, or amused. 

“No ; it will not ; eight little girls with three times 
that number of grown people can hardly be called a 
child’s party ; but even if it should be, cannot a 
child’s party be a pleasant thing for grown people ?” 

Cornelia smiled, then she said : 

“ When will you give this queer party?” 

“ Let me see ; to day is Tuesday ; this day two 
weeks, and we shall have it in the afternoon from 
four o’clock till eight — that will send the children 
home in good time.” 

“Egbert!” said his sister, “What will society 
say of us if you go against every one of its customs 
like that ?” 

Egbert said cooly : 

“As it is not society that is giving this party, I 
don’t see that society need trouble us.” 

“ But you are going to give it in our name,” she 
said, “and father and Edwin will be frantic.” 

“ Well, if they should get too frantic we can buy 
a couple of straight jackets for them, and have them 
taken care of as insane people for a little while.” 

Cornelia thought it better to say no more, and 
Egbert went on in the same tone : 

“ You write plain, simple little notes of invitatiog 
to my friends, Cornelia, and I shall call and give 
them myself. You and your father and Edwin can 
invite your friends, according to the way society 
sends out invitations.” 

Cornelia bit her lip. She knew Egbert was not 
pleased with her for having mentioned society. 

When old Mr. Ingoldsby was told about the party, 
he raved for an hour to Cornelia about the disgrace 
it would be to his “ blue blood,” He would not have 


A cm VALRO US DEED, AND WEAT GAME OF II. 319 

cared so much were it given in Nevin’s name ; for 
then he could put it all down to the oddities of his 
step son ; but to have it said that the Ingoldsbys gave 
such a party was maddening, and only that he knew 
he owed everything just now to Egbert, he would 
liave spoken his mind freely. Edwin was not less 
angry ; he said his step-brother ought to invite the 
maimed, and the halt, and the blind, but it was only 
to Cornelia he spoke. 

Cornelia had to go to Egbert again to find out 
more of what kind of a party he wanted. 

‘‘Is there to be dancing? ” she said, “or are the 
people to come here only to talk to each other take 
some refreshments, and then go home?” 

“Let me see,” he said, making a turn of the room, 
and looking as if he were thinking very gravely 
about it ; the truth was, he was not thinking at all 
only to make the whole thing utterly different from 
the way society would have done it, and as ridic- 
ulous as possible. 

“Cornelia,” he said, when he came back toiler, 
“ I think we shall have a little old-fashioned music, 
that the children can dance to, and sing to — they 
must positively sing, and you grown up people can 
join in the chorus. Then we might have a few 
children’s games — Blind Man’s Buff ; Sally 
Waters ” 

Cornelia burst out laughing : the thought of her 
pompous father, and her proud brother, making 
part of a ring round 

“Little Sally Waters sitting in the sun, 

was too much for her, but Egbert without even 
smiling, went on, “or some other game that children 
like. Grames sometimes are a good means to get peo- 
ple to know and like each other. Then for refresh- 
ments, we shall have a sensible, palatable supper, fol- 
lowed by light confectionery that will not make the 
little ones sick.” 


320 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT, 

Cornelia wondered what he meant by light con- 
fectionery, but she thought she had better not ask ; 
she said however : 

‘‘ You spoke of old-fashioned music ; will you hire 
some one who plays the banjo or tlie fiddle 

“ JSTo ; you and some of your friends can play old 
fashioned tunes on the piano — old fashioned dance 
music for the children ; simple, popular airs that 
they can hum to, if they should not know the words” 

Cornelia was again in dismay ; what would her so- 
ciety friends think of a party where they were expect- 
ed to play the piano for the amusement of children. 

Egbert, thinking by this time he had made it all 
very plain, left the room whistling. 

Cornelia felt for a moment like crying : then she 
roused herself and laughed. It was surely going to 
be the strangest kind of a party. What would her 
father and Edwin say when they heard of the game, 
and which of their friends would they invite ? That 
brought the thought of which of her own friends she 
should ask. Mothers with little daughters ; Egbert 
had said ; she only knew fashionable mothers with 
fashionable little daughters, and she smiled as she 
thought how horrified they would be if they knew 
they were invited to meet the family of a tailor, and 
a child from a tenement house. 

‘‘But they won’t know it,” said Cornelia to her- 
self, “unless Mr. Blun tells it by some ridiculous 
remark, or Mrs. Blun shows it by her want of breed- 
ing, and if they do, perhaps there will be some way 
of letting the injured ones know it is one of Egbert’s 
whims. Thank Providence he has riches enough to 
cover all his oddities.” 

So she put down on her list the names of the fash- 
ionable mothers, but she thought she had better not 
add any more, till she knew how many persons her 
father and brother would ask. When she went to 
Edwin, he said a naughty word, but he kept it so 
much between his teeth she did not catch it ; then he 
said so she did hear ; 


1 


A GHIVALRO U8 DEED, AND WEA T GAME OF IT. 321 

‘‘Why doesn’t Egbert hire a hurdy gurdy and a 
i monkey. We could dance to the music of that, and 
we could make a ring with the monkey for “Sally 
Waters.” 

He did not even smile, nor did Cornelia smile, and 
I he went on : 

“We shall be the talk of society giving such a 
I party as that for the first in this elegamt house. I’d 
I like to straight jacket Egbert.” 

“Perhaps, later,” said Cornelia, “Egbert will let 
, ns give one of our parties.” 

“Not a bit of it,” said Edwin savagely. 

“He’ll do this kind of thing all the time.” 

“I am to write the invitations for his friends,” 
; said his sister. 

“You can write them for mine too,” said Edwin, 
“Pll tell you what to say : 

■ “Mr. and Miss Ingoldsby request the company 
I of Mr. and Mrs. Blank to an afternoon gathering of 
j old maids, old bachelors, and children ; entertain- 
ment to consist of piano thumping and the singing 
of popular negro songs. Refreshments will be served 
to the hungry, but all will please abstain from tast- 
ing the confectionery lest they should be taken ill 
on the premises.” 

Cornelia laughed : then she said, 

“Whom will you invite ?” 

He took a card and wrote the names of a half dozen 
: ladies and as many gentlemen ; but as he gave it to 
her, he said coarsely : 

“If it were not,” and then checked himself. 

“If it were not what ?” asked his sister. 

He turned on her angril}^ 

“It strikes me, Cornelia, that you ask too many 
questions. Am I bound to explain to you every word 
that drops from my lips?” 

Cornelia might have asked if she were bound to 
consider all his wishes, but she did not have the cour- 
: age. Instead, §he went out of the room very much 
' cast down. 


322 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 

If Edwin had not been dependent on Egbert for 
future money favors, he would have gone out of town 
and remained till after the party. 

Later that day, Cornelia went to her father, choos- 
ing the time just before dinner so that he would not 
have much chance for showing his temper. But the 
old gentleman was in an angry mood. He had just 
seen the little crtide drawing on the parlor wall, and 
having been told by one of the servants it had been 
hung there by Mr. Nevin’s order, he did not dare to 
touch it. He accused Cornelia of being Ihe cause of 
all the trouble ; if she acted with Egbert as she ought 
to do, since bethought so much of her, Egbert would 
do things that would please him and Edwin. Cor- 
nelia tried to make her father see that it was not her 
fault, but he only got more angry, and at length she 
burst out crying. 

That frightened the old gentleman. In her grief 
she might tell Egbert : so he said quickly : 

“ What a baby you are, Cornelia. Can’t your old 
father say a few words just to relieve himself with- 
out having you take them up so 

She dried her eyes. 

‘‘And now what do you want?” speaking in a 
kinder tone. 

She showed him her list of names for the party. 

He wanted to burst into another fit of rage, but it 
was the dinner hour and there would not be time. 
“ Leave the list with me, and I’ll think up the people 
I want to invite.” 

“Oh, pa! can’t you give me the names no\v?” 
She did not want to come to him again about the 
party. 

He took out his heavy gold pencil and wrote as 
many names as Edwin had written. 

“That is my contribution to this horrid business,” 
he said, and then growling, he stamped into another 
room. 


A CmVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 323 


CHAPTER XXXIL 

Me. Nevin went to Mr. Bliin’s store to give the 
invitariori to the party into Mr. Blim’s own hand, and 
when Mr. Blun read that it was to hike place in the 
afternoon, and that it was not going to be at all a so- 
ciety party, he laughed to himself at the thought of 
what his wife would say. 

His wife did say a good deal when that evening 
her husband, gave her the note to read, and more still 
when she found that Miss Luxor was invited ; but 
her husband, having the wicked satisfaction of know- 
ing she was disappointed, did not mind wbat she 
said. He took care to tell Miss Luxor in his wife’s 
presence that she was also invited. 

‘‘L” said the little woman almost aghast, why I 
haven’t been at a party in twenty years. Thank 
these kind people for me and beg them to excuse me.’' 

I sliall do nothing of the kind. Aunt Rebecca,” 
said Mr. Blun. I have accepted the invitation for 
you and you are coming with us. It is going to be a 
simple, afternoon affair so that your dress need not 
be very different from the one you have on.” The 
one she had. on was the same fig leaved gown that 
had amused Miss Ingoldsby. 

His speech about dress made his wife wonder how 
she was going to look in her China silk if everybody 
else was going to wear a plain dress, and how an- 
gry her husband would be when he saw her cos- 
tume. 


324 ^ CBIVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 


‘‘Please do excuse me,” went on Miss Luxor in 
real dismay. 

But her nephew would take no excuse. 

When Helen lieard of it, she was delighted. She 
danced about when she was alone with her brothers 
and sisters and talked so boastfully of her invitation 
that it roused Susie’s envy and made Lulu cry 
“ tause she touldn’t doe to a party,” and set Wal- 
ter and Arden to saying how glad they were they had 
not been invited. 

Miss Luxor had to be called in before quiet could 


be restored. 

When Mr. Nevin left Mr. Blun, he went to Mar- 
garet’s fruit stand. She had not seen him since the 
June days and she flushed with pleasure. 

“And excuse me,” she said, “for telling it to 
your face, but you’re looking happier and younger 
than when you were here before.” 

“I have given myself something to do, Margaret ; 
perhaps that’s the secret ; 1 have been interesting 
myself in little girls, and I have found the one I met 
here, one day. Have you seen her since 

“ Not once sir ; and it isn’t that I haven’t been on 
the lookout for her, but I think she had a sort of 
shame somehow, after what happened, to come here 
any more.” 

“ Perhaps, but I have found her, and she is going 
to make a clever woman, Margaret.” 

“I don’t doubt it, sir, with her eyes and her 
wonderful independent way.” 

“ Margaret !’’ 

“ W ell sir ?” looking at him with wonder at the 
manner in which he called her name. 

“Wouldn’t you like to take your old situation 
witli us again ? your sister for whom you gave it up, 
is dead, and your present way of living is not easy.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Nevin ! how good it is of you, but I am 
too old — there is no work about this — ” 

He would not let her flnish. 


A CHI VALRO U8 DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. S25 

There shall not be much work about your situ- 
ation in my house, for it is my liouse, Margaret. 
You shall see that others do tlieir work ; that is all, 
and you shall have your old wages.” 

She elapsed her bony, wrinkled hands together 
and looked at him, tears of thankfulness coming in- 
to her eyes but slie did not speak. 

Will come ?” he asked gently. 

I’ll do any thing in this world for you, Mr. Nevin^ 
but they never cared for me ; they were glad 
when I went.” 

“ It is my house now, and I need some one there 
who will be faithful to my interests — all the ser- 
vants now are strangers.” 

‘‘I’ll go,” she said. 

Prom Margaret’s stand Mr. Nevin went to Lizzie 
Morrell’s home. He had not seen the little girl 
since the day he met her in the art rooms, but he had 
gone to Bromley’s studio when she was not 
there, and he had lieard from Bromley gratifying 
accounts of her progress. 

The October day had reached its gloaming, and 
the lamps in the hallways of the tenement house not 
yet being lit, he was able to get to Mr. Morrell’s 
rooms without being seen by any of the other ten- 
ants. 

Mr. Morrell was still unable to do more than get 
about the room with the help of a cane, nor could 
his doctor tell him when he might venture to the 
street ; but he was as patient and hopeful as ever 
so long as Maria and Lizzie were spared to him, and 
were as amiable to each other as they had been 
lately, he would not murmur. He felt somehow,, 
as if the peaceful state of his famil}?” were due to his 
wife’s acquaintance with Mrs. Tavish ; it surely be- 
gan when that acquaintance began, and he knew 
that Maria went to see Mrs. Tavish very often, and 
that she always came back very happy and very 
gentle. Then Lizzie and Nanny were such affec- 


326 ^ GEIVALRO US DEED, AND WEA T GAME OF IT. 

tionate frieuds, that altogether, Bartholomew felt 
he had a good deal to be thankful for. 

On this evening with no thought of the stranger 
at his door, he was sitting quite alone, Lizzie hav- 
ing gone to the drug store, and Maria not yet hav- 
ing returned from her afternoon jaunt. Enoiigli 
daylight remained to show plainly Mr. Morrell’s 
white, rugged face leaning against the dark cushion 
of the chair, and indistinctly, the furniture of the 
room. 

He started at the unexpected knock, but said in 
a loud voice. 

‘‘Come in,” and Mr. Nevin entered closing the 
door gently behind him. 

“I am looking for Mr. Morrell,” he said in his 
deep, pleasant voice. 

“That is my name, sir,” said Bartholomew rising 
and looking with great astonishment at the stranger. 

“ Are you the uncle of a little girl named Lizzie 
Morrell ?” 

“ 1 am, sir.” 

“ She has told you no doubt of meeting someone 
in a picture gallery who was much pleased with her 
drawing, and who bought her little sketch ?” 

“She has, indeed; and are you that gentleman, 
sir?” said Morrell forgetting in his delightat the meet- 
ing to seize his crutch as he took a step forward ; 
but he was quickly reminded of his neglect by a 
twinge of pain, and he had to take the crutch before 
lie spoke again. 

“It was stupid of me not to think it might be you, 
sir. Sit down pfease. Lizzie will be in soon, and I’ m 
expecting my wife every moment.” 

His simple, kind, childlike manner charmed Nevin. 

“You are an invalid, Mr. Morrell ; I see,” he said 
pulling a chair forward and seating himself. 

“ I am sir ; but I have great hopes of getting quite 
well, only that it’s tedious.” 

Egbert did not care to say any more for the pres- 


A CHIVA LRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. S27 

ent about Mr. Morrell’s illness ; he desired to get 
at once to what he came for. 

‘1 am much pleased with your little niece, Mr. 
Morrell.” 

Bartholomew’s face glowed, and his voice trembled 
a little as he said : 

‘‘I’m very much obliged to you, sir; she’s the 
only child of a dead brother of mine, and for that 
reason she’s like the apple of my eye.” 

“I desire,” saidNevin, “ to have her attend a little 
party at my house, next week Thursday. My sister 
will preside, and it is to be in the afternoon. Mrs. 
Morrell of course will come with her.’’ 

Bartholomew did not know what leply to make ; 
the suddenness of the invitation bewildered him. He 
thought that he ought to feel glad and honored at 
having received it, but then he could not tell how 
Maria would take it, nor how Lizzie would relish the 
idea of Mrs. Morrell going with lier. 

As it was getting too dark even to see each other’s 
faces, he thought he would defer giving an answer 
till he got a light ; that would give him a little time 
to think, and perhaps also, by that rime his wife 
would have come back, so he said ; ‘‘ Excuse me 
sir, and I’ll get the lamp.” 

He hobbled out to the kitchen where he knew the 
lamps and matches were kept, but not knowing the 
precise spot, it took him some time to find them, 
and while he was looking, Mrs. Morrell returned, 
and entered the room where she had left her hus- 
band quietly sitting when she went out. 

The last trace of daylight having faded, she could 
not discern anything in the room, but never doubt- 
ing for a moment that her husband was in his usual 
place, and that he was the only occupant beside her- 
self, she began : 

“ You’re all in the dark, Bartholomew dear ; Liz- 
zie didn’t get back yet I suppose. Well, I wouldn’t 
have been so long, but I stopped to speak to Orlan- 


328 ^ GHIVALUOUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


der. He seems to have a great fear of me someway, 
and I thought I’d talk to him about Lizzie. I told 
him about her pictures and the elegant gentleman 
that bought her sketch—.” 

The elegant gentleman recovering from his amused 
astonishment, thought it was time to give some 
sign of his presence ; so he said : 

‘‘ 1 think you mistake me for Mr. Morrell.” 

At which speech and which voice so very differ- 
ent from Bartholomew’s, Mrs. Morrell screamed, and 
just then her husband came in with the lamp. 

“ I am afraid I have frightened you,” said Nevia 
with a smile. 

Mrs. Morrell wore her light calico dress, and it. 
rustled like silk being starched so stiff, while on her 
frowsy hair was the very small bonnet with the yel- 
low strings. 

‘‘ I’m so glad you’ve come, Maria,” said her hus- 
band, ‘‘ this is the gentleman that was so kind to 
Lizzie, and he wants you to take her to a party at 
his house, next week,” telling it all at once so that 
his wife would reply to the invitation. 

But Mrs. Morrell, to use her own words, “ was so 
flustered,” at having mistaken that elegant man for 
Bartholomew, that all the reply she could make was 
to say in jerks : 

“ Oh, — oh ! — oh my ! — the very idea — I’m sure — 
till her husband feeling something must be done to 
restore her to herself, said : 

‘‘Maria, the gentleman’s waiting for you to say 
something to him.” 

Nevin also came to the rescue, saying pleasantly : 

“ I have been hardly fair to you, Mr. Morrell, ex- 
pecting you to accept an invitation for your wife and 
niece when you do not know anything about me. 

I belong to the Ingoldsby family ; they live in ” 

giving the street and number. 

“It is all down here,” he went on, placing the 
note of invitation in Mrs. Morrell’s hand. 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 329 


Mrs. Morrell liad recovered herself enough to think 
it would be good manners for her to courtesy, and 
courtesy she did, bobbing so low, that Nevin won- 
dered if she were going on her knees. 

“ You will come, will you not saidhlevin, “ you 
and your niece f ’ 

“ Indeed, I shall, Mr. Ingoldsby,” said Mrs. Mor- 
rell, thinking that must be his name since he said he 
belonged to the family of the Ingoldsbys. Nevin 
did not correct her. 

‘‘I wish Lizzie was in,” said Mr. Morrell, feeling 
that if Lizzie were there, somehow she would make 
up for anything not quite polite that his wife had 
done. But Lizzie did not come though Nevin 
waited long enough to have Mr. Morrell tell much 
of his family history, and when he did go, Mrs. 
Morrell accompanied him to the street door ; her di- 
rections to mind his steps, and to look out for the turns 
were spoken very often and in a very loud voice, but 
to her great disappointment without bringing out a 
single neighbor, for October evenings were not warm 
enough to have open doors, and the hour being the 
busy one of supper, nobody so much as looked 
through a chink. 

She even waited on the threshold of the street door 
after he had gone, looking up and down with the 
hope of seeing some one to tell of the way sbe had 
been honored. 

When Lizzie came back and heard the news she 
could eat no supper ; her first feeling was a sort of 
dismay that the gentleman had seen Mrs. Morrell — 
she was sure he was disgusted : and to think of 
Mrs. Morrell going to such a party ; it made her al- 
most sick. 

‘‘Well, Lizzie Morrell, if you’re not the contrariest 
girl,” said her aunt, provoked after she herself had 
shown so much interest and delight, that Lizzie 
should not say a word. 

“ Here’s an invitation for you,” she went on, “that 


330 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


anybody in tliis whole city ’d be glad to get, and you 
don’t as much as ask what you’ll wear.” 

‘‘I don’t care,” said Lizzie almost ready to cry, 
“ I don’t want to go.” 

And she rushed to her own room not able to bear 
the reproachful way Dad looked at her. She wished 
she had not spoken so, but she couldn’t help it, she 
said to herself, thinking of the many ways Mrs. Mor- 
rell had shamed her in the past. 

Mrs. Morrell looked as if she were going to get into 
one of her old tempers; she put her hands on her 
sides and shook her head at her husband : 

“There’s for you, Bartholomew Mortimer Mor- 
rell, — to say she doesn’t want to go when an elegant 
gentleman like that comes here to ask us. But she’s 
a going, she’s a going, I say, she’s a going,” be- 
ginning to work herself into a state of great excite- 
ment. 

“Yes, yes, Maria; she’ll go,” said Bartholomew 
quickly. “It’s only that she’s too tired now, to 
talk about it ; but we’ll talk about it for her, and 
you’ll get her dress and your own. You must have 
a new dress, Maria, and I’m glad now I wasn’t well 
enough to go into business this fall, for then I 
shouldn’ t have had a cent to spare ; but now, I have, 
and you must get nice dresses, Maria. Come, sit 
down, and we’ll talk about it.” 

Mrs. Morrell’s anger was appeased at once, and she 
seated herself saying very amiably : 

“ I think, Bartholomew, I’d like a pink silk dress.” 

“ For you ?” he asked with a sort of dismayed sur- 
prise in his voice. Little as he knew about a 
woman’s dress, and least of all a woman’s dress for 
a party, he felt as if a pink silk would not do for 
such a big woman, and one who was a good deal over 
forty. 

“Yes, for me ; I’ve seen pink silk in the store 
windows for evening dresses and it would be very 
becoming.” 

A good thought came to her husband. 


A OBIVALEOUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 331 

“ Supposing Maria, you ask Mrs. Tavisli about it ; 
don’t you remember how she told us she used to be 
a dressmaker before she came to New York. Now, 
she will just know what’ll be nicest for you.” 

Mrs. Morrell thought so too ; perhaps what helped 
her to think so was the excuse it would give her to 
go to see Mrs. Tavish the very next day. She did 
want so much to talk about Mr. Ingoldsby. 

Lizzie stole to her uncle when he was alone, and 
she whispered why she had spoken so crossly, and 
asked him to forgive her. He forgave her at once 
and comforted her, but at the same time he tried to 
say a good word for his wife. 

To be sure, Lizzie, when Maria found who it was 
she was a talking to, taking him for me, it bothered 
her some ; but on the whole, she behaved verj^ well, 
for Maria’s a good woman.” 

But the chief comfort he gave her was when he told 
her Maria was going to ask Mrs. Tavish whether she 
ouglit to wear a pink silk. A pink silk on Mrs. 
Morrell ! to the sensitive child what night-mare 
could equal that ? 


332 ^ CEIVALRO VS DEED, AND WE A T CAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Wheist our three little girls went back to school in 
September they were promoted into Miss Robson’s 
class. Miss Robson still kept her anger against Miss 
Olden, holding her head very high wlien she met 
that young lady, and often complaining of the 
schocking bad scholarship of Miss Olden’s girls. 

For her part, Miss Robson declared, she didn’t 
know how Miss Olden could promote girls so entirely 
unfit to be promoted, and she never lost a chance of 
telling the girls themselves how she pitied them for 
the poor way in which they had been taught in the 
last class ; and all of that being told to Miss Olden 
by some of the girls. Miss Olden foolishly made her- 
self very miserable. 

The girls, however, young as they were, were not 
long in finding out that Miss Robson tauglit them in 
a way to give the least work and trouble to herself ; 
but then, she had the supreme virtue which Miss 
Olden had not ; she could keep ramrod order. Every 
member of Miss Robson’s class sat up rigidly dur- 
ing a lesson with eyes steadily turned to a given 
point, and head not moving the least bit, but of what 
the little active minds were thinking. Heaven alone 
knew for Miss Robson did not. 

In Miss Olden’s class the hard, conscientious work 
of the teacher often interested the small minds and 
kept them on the subject, so that though heads 
might not be so still and little forms might not be so 
erect, nor so motionless, the children knew wh^t 


A OniVALHO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 333 

they were doing, and most of them could give intel- 
ligent answers. 

In the present class, Miss Robson took just the 
words of the text books ; if the child did not under- 
stand them, the books were to blame, not she. 
Being so perfect a disciplinarian that the order of her 
class was praised by both Principal and school offi- 
cers, she could afford not to care much about her 
methods of teaching. 

In such a class Lizzie Morrell had abundant time 
for thinking about her drawing, and without know- 
ing it herself she had marks of great favor in Miss 
Robson’s eyes. Having been the most troublesome 
girl in her last class. Miss Robson had made up her 
mind to find no fault with lier in the present one, so 
Lizzie, to her agreeable surprise found she could let 
her mind go as far from the class room as she chose, 
and going four afternoons a week to the studio, 
where her work was so pleasant, her thoughts natur- 
ally preferred Bromley’s classroom to Miss Robson’s. 

To Nanny Tavish, who wanted to understand what 
she studied, Miss Robson’s method of teaching was 
very disappointing ; she found herself asking ques- 
tions in her own mind which Miss Olden would have 
answered even before Nanny could have asked them, 
but she knew Miss Robson would think her trouble- 
some if she asked her ; so she used to keep them 
for her mother : but Mrs. Tavish did not have edu- 
cation enough to be able to answer them always, and 
at length, she said : 

“Do ask your teacher, Nanny; why are you so 
much afraid of her ? you used to ask Miss Olden ; 
try Miss Robson. Perhaps you will find her very 
kind about it.” 

Nanny did so, and Miss Robson looked at her ; a 
long, cool look that sent the blood up to the child’s 
forehead ; then Miss Robson deigned to say : 

“What foolish questions you do ask, Nanny 
Tavish.” 


834 ^ CniVALRO vs DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 


The very day that Nanny bad been promoted Miss 
Robson had made up her mind to put Nanny down 
whenever Nanny should attempt to show her intel- 
ligence, for Miss Olden having praised the child as 
her very best scholar, it was necessary to show that 
Miss Olden’s judgment was wrong; that what she 
liad taken for cleverness was forwardness and need- 
ed to be put down. 

And it was put down ; Miss Robson was never 
again asked a question of any kind by Nanny Tav- 
ish, but Nanny told her mother with tears of anger. 
Her mother, poor woman, could give her no other 
comfort than to say it would be different probably 
in the next class; the teacher might be more like 
Miss Olden. 

To Helen Blun, Miss Robson’s way of teaching 
made no difference. She could sit still, twirling her 
thumbs behind her back, or say to herself on the 
buttons of her apron as far as she could reach them : 


“ Ricli man, poor man, beggar man, thief, 
Soldier, merchant, Indian Chief.” 


That was to tell what kina oi a husband she should 
get when she grew up, and as she had a good mem- 
ory it was not much trouble to study the words of 
her lessons, as she did not try to think what the 
words meant, she had no questions to bother the 
teacher with. 

Different from what Helen had expected, Lizzie did 
not say a word about Helen’s father having Mrs. Mor- 
rell on his arm, and as everybody in the class knew 
what warm friends Lizzie and Nanny were, Helen was 
very careful to say nothing that could hurt Nanny’s 
feelings. But Helen and Lizzie disliked each other ; 
theydisliked each other all the more that each had her 
own set of friends in the class ; Helen having those 
who wished to be friends with a little girl who lived 
in a fine house and who had a rich father, and Lizzie, 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 335 

those who did not like Helen’s airs, and who did like 
Lizzie Morrell’s courage. Nanny was perhaps, the 
only little girl in the class that everybody felt kindly 
towards, even though she was such a warm friend of 
Lizzie Morrell. The two hardly ever spoke of Helen. 
Lizzie thought if she should say just what she 
wanted to about Helen, Nanny would say it was not 
right to speak so, and Nanny thought that Lizzie 
was not to blame if she did think Helen was hateful, 
but that it would be against all her mother’s teachings 
to say so. 

This was how it was in Miss Robson’s class on the 
October morning when Lizzie Morrell went to school 
full of the visit of Mr. Ingoldsby. And when she 
was hanging up her things she heard one of Helen 
Blun’s friends say to another : 

‘‘ Helen Blun’s going to a party week after next ; 
she told the girls the minute she got to school.” 

Then Miss Robson clapped her hands and each girl 
took her place, looking down to see that she toed the 
line, and looking up to fix her eyes on the point Miss 
Robson’s white plump finger pointed to. 

Lizzie thought it very odd that Helen should be go- 
ing to a party too at about the same time, and 
when she glanced at Helen she could not help think- 
ing how pretty and how happy she looked. Then 
she looked longingly at Nanny Tavish, and she 
wondered how she could ever wait till recess to talk 
to her. 

Nanny that morning, while looking over her les- 
sons instead of taking part in the buzz about her, had 
also heard that Helen was going to a party ; she liad 
heard Helen herself say so, and tell where the party 
was to be, and that Miss Ingoldsby and her brother 
were going to give it. Having met Miss Ingoldsby 
at the door of Helen’s house, Nanny felt sure it was 
the same Miss Ingoldsby, and it did not make her 
feelings to that lady any more kindly. She said to 
herself : 


336 ^ GEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF H. 

“Helen Blun’s rich: of course, Miss Ingoldsby 
would ask her to a party, and be kind to her, and 
not hurt her feelings. I am only a washerwoman’s 
daughter.” 

When recess came and she saw Helen in the 
midst of her friends each one impatient to hear more 
about the party, Nanny felt more bitterly than ever, 
and she walked quickly to a distant corner of the 
yard. In a moment, Lizzie found her, and when her 
wonderful news was told Nanny’s bitterness was lost 
for the time in astonishment. 

That the name of the gentleman Lizzie had met in 
the art gallery should be Ingoldsby, and that he 
should actually call at Lizzie’s home to invite her to 
a party at his house on the same street and at the 
same number that she had heard Helen mention that 
morning, made it plain to Nanny that he was one of 
the same family of Ingoldsbys her mother used to 
work for. Lizzie’ s elegan t stranger must be Miss In- 
goldsby’ s brother, but Lizzie’s description of him was 
not like Mr. Edwin Ingoldsby; it must be Egbert then 
— the Egbert she once thought so much about ; she 
did not want to think about him anymore — his very 
name since it was also Ingoldsby, sounded hateful to 
her. With all these thoughts hot in her mind, she 
only looked at Lizzie without speaking. 

Lizzie, puzzled at Nanny’s silence said at length : 

“What’s the matter, Nanny ? I never saw you look 
like that before.” 

Nanny drew a long breath. 

“It is all so strange, Lizzie,” she said, “and the 
strangest part of all is that Helen Blun is going to 
that party too.” 

Lizzie turned pale, Helen going to a party where 
the “feather bed tied in the middle,” was going, this 
was too dreadful. 

‘T heard her telling the girls this morning,” went on 
Nanny, and it’s the same place, and they’re the same 
people.” 


A CHl VALtlO US DEED, AND WBA T GAME OF IT. 337 


It was Lizzie’s turn to stare in silence, and Nanny, 
her bitter feelings all coming back, felt impelled to 
tell everything. 

“Don’t you remember she said, “the lady who 
spoke to me in front of Helen’s house the day you 
helped me to carry the clothes basket?” 

“Yes,” said Lizzie. 

“Well, that lady is Miss Ingoldsby ; you didn’t 
ask anything about her, and I didn’t feel like telling 
you, but I’ll tell it all to you now.” 

And she did tell it all, feeling with every word she 
spoke she was not doing right, for, beside speaking 
unkindly of the Ingoldsbys she was causing Lizzie 
to think ill of* people who were kind to her ; but it 
was a relief to Nanny to tell it, she had felt so un- 
happy to think that Helen who put on such airs, and 
was so boastful, should have received such an invi- 
tation from the Ingoldsbys while she, Nanny, was en- 
tirely neglected by them. She did not mind a bit 
that Lizzie was invited ; she loved Lizzie too well, 
and now, when she saw the distress in Lizzie’s face, 
she was sorry that she had spoken. 

“It was real mean of me to tell you,” she said, 
“for now, maybe you won’t care for Miss Ingoldsby 
and her brother, and all through me.” 

“I don’t like them,” said Lizzie quickly, but im- 
mediately she felt that was wrong, and she added : 

“Except Mr. Ingoldsby ; I mean the Mr. Ingolds- 
by I saw ; it wouldn’ t be right for me not to like him, 
and maybe he isn’ t like his sister ; maybe he’s a heap 
better.” 

“I guess he is,” replied Nanny, glad to be able to 
say something to make up for her former speech, 
“and I’m real glad you’re going.” 

“Well, I’m not glad,” said Lizzie shortly, “v^ith 
Helen Blun going too, and Mrs. Morrell — it just 
makes me sick,” and she leaned wearily against the 
school yard fence. 

Nanny did not know what comfort to give, for 


338 ^ GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

with Mrs. Morrell going it was bad enough to make 
anybody sick. 

Lizzie roused herself to say : 

“I don’t know what I should have done if Dad 
hadn’t thought of asking her to get your mother to 
tell her what to wear. And she will try to keep her 
from getting a pink silk, won’t she Nanny ?” sudden 
dismay coming into her voice. 

‘'lam sure she will, Lizzie, and what are you going 
to wear ?” trying to make herself feel an interest in 
her little friend’s dress. 

But Lizzie did not care much what she wore ; all 
her thoughts were about Mrs. Morrell, and she said, 
kicking at the loose flagging of the yard with the 
toe of her shoe. 

‘‘I don’t know, and I don’t care, but I just wish, 
there never was such a thing as a party in the world.” 
and she kicked the loose flagging so hard this time 
she winced ; but without minding the pain, she went 
on : 

“I am not going to let Helen Blun or any of the 
girls know that / am going to a party.” 

“No, I wouldn’t,” said Nanny quickly, and won’t 
she be surprised when she sees you there. I do hope 
Mrs. Morrell will get a real nice dress for you, ” 
her eyes sparkling as she thought of Helen’s vexa- 
tion at finding that a little girl who lived in a tene- 
ment house was also invited to the same party. But 
poor Lizzie only felt that no nice dress of her own 
could hide Mrs. Morrell’s vulgarity, or make up for 
the shame her aunt might cause her to feel. 

In the morning of that same day Mrs. Morrell 
called on Mrs. Tavish, to tell her wonderful news, and 
to ask her about the dress for the party. 

“ A black silk, Mrs. Morrell, will be the nicest thing 
for you,” she said, as you are so large it will make 
you look smaller ; black always does that.” 

“ Does it now ? well, I was thinking of a pink silk 
cut low in the neck wdth white lace sleeves. You see 


A GHIVA LRO US DEED, AND WBA T CAME OE IT. 339 


my neck is plump and I have a good fair skin.” 

Mrs. Tavish wiped her mouth very hard with her 
apron till she could restrain her laughter ; then she 
said : 

‘'Just because your skin is fair black will be most 
becoming, and as this party is to be in the afternoon 
your dress should not be cut low by any means.” 

“ Why, I thought low necked dresses were the 
style at all parties,” said Mrs. Morrell beginning to 
look disappointed. 

‘ Only evening parties,” answered Mrs. Tavish. 

“ Oh, is that it ? well, of course, I am not in the way 
of such things and I don’t know much about them, 
only I want to be sure to look as nice as the rest of 
the company, and Bartholomew is very anxious 
about my appearance.” 

“ Then a rich black silk, high in the neck, with a 
little good trimming will be the best.” 

“ Well, ril get that then,” said Mrs. Morrell, but 
she said it in a hesitating way as if she were not at all 
sure about it. 

“ What is Lizzie going to wear?” asked Mrs. Tav- 
ish. 

“ I was thinking of yeller with red ribbon bows,” 
said the visitor, and she looked very much surprised 
that Mrs. Tavish instead of agreeing with her should 
say quickly ; 

“ Oh, no ; that would never do for a little girl ; 
you must get a simple white dress.” 

“ White, for Lizzie ? why her skin is only two 
shades better than a nigger’s.” ^ 

Mrs. Tavish smiled. 

“ No matter how dark her complexion is,” she said, 
“ white will be the proper dress, but then it can be 
made bright with red ribbon if you like.” 

“ Well,” said Mrs. Morrell, speaking very slowly 
and seriously again, “as I said before I don’t know 
much about these things, and 1 told Bartholomew I’d 
do wliat you said.” 


340 A CHIVALROUS DEiSD, AND WHAT GAME OF IT 

But for all that, she was in a good deal of doubt 
even when she went to buy the material for the two 
dresses ; it was such a change from pink to black, and 
yellow to white, and she could not help thinking how 
becoming to herself would have been a pink silk cut 
low in the neck and flowing with lace sleeves. 

Mrs. Tavish did not resume her work immediately 
on Mrs. Morrell’s departure ; she wanted to think a 
little about “ Mr. Ingoldsby.” After all there were 
more Ingoldsby families in the world than the one 
that gave her so much anxiety, and why should he 
not belong to one of those other Ingoldsbys ? From 
Mrs. Morrell’s description, “ a tall, elegant man with 
big, lovely eyes and hair like satin,” she could not 
get much, and she could not trust herself to ask more 
about him. 

But, when Nanny came home she made it plain 
that Mrs. Morrell’s ‘‘elegant gentleman,” was a 
member of the Ingoldsby family, and that he must 
be even that member whose name was Egbert. 
Nanny on ending her story, said with flashing 
eyes ; 

“I am just as good as Helen Blun. I am in the 
same class with her at school ; you are just as good 
as her mother is, but just because you area washer- 
woman, I suppose. Miss Ingoldsby didn’t think 
anything about hurting my feelings, not noticing me, 
after pretending she liked me so much. Because 
Helen Blun’ s father is rich she invites her to a party ; 
she doesn’t invite me : we are only good enough to 
send money to, as if we were beggars.” 

Mrs. Tavish, white even to the lips, managed to 
say: 

“Lizzie Morrell is not rich and she has been in- 
vited.” 

“ Not by Miss Ingoldsby,” flashed back the angry 
child, “it was Mr. Ingoldsby who asked her. Oh, 
mamma! it seems as if riches bring everything! 
Helen Blun can be as hateful as she likes in the class, 


A GBIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT 341 

and she’ll have lots of girls to care for her just be- 
cause her father’s got money.” 

Mrs. Tavish turned her face away lest the working 
of her features might betray how thankful she was 
that Nanny had not been invited to that party. Her 
silence and her averted head brought repentance to 
Nanny, and when kissing her mother she found a 
J^ear on her cheek, all her jealous, angry feelings went 
*at once. 


342 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

On the day before that of the party Helen Blun 
proudly told Miss Robson she was going to be ab- 
sent. 

‘‘ What for asked Miss Robson, in the tone that 
always made timid children tremble down to their 
shoes. But Helen did not tremble at all ; she felt 
she had might on her side this time, her mother hav- 
ing said it was necessary for her to remain home all 
day. So she said fearlessly, and with an air of 
triumph : 

“ I am going to a party.” 

“ A party repeated the teacher in a very severe 
tone, “is it necessary for you to stay home a whole 
day to go to a party 

“Yes ma’am,” replied Helen more triumphantly 
still, “ it is going to be in the afternoon, and I have 
got to dress for it.” 

Miss Robson looked very fixedly at Helen for a 
moment, then she said : 

‘‘ You require a whole day I suppose on the prin- 
ciple of less brains more dress. Be careful, Helen, 
to do it very well ; dress so much, that nobody will 
dream how little you know.” 

The girls laughed, and Helen covered with shame 
sank into her seat. Even Nanny found it in her 
heart to be glad the teacher had spoken so, for Helen 
had boasted so much during the week of the party 
and what she was going to wear. 

Lizzie’s black eyes sparkled with delight, and put- 


A CmVALMOUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 343 

ting her open book up to her mouth, she chuckled 
into it in such an amusing manner that it set the 
girls about her to laughing heartily. And Miss 
Robson actually let them laugh. 

How glad Lizzie felt that no one in the class but 
Nanny, knew she was going to a party, and half a 
day from school was all she was going to take ; nor 
did she intend to tell Miss Robson till the first re- 
cess on the morrow. 

When she did tell, adding that she was going to 
a party so as to save the teacher the trouble of ask- 
ing the question, the teacher said with much sur- 
prise : 

“ You going to a party too ? is it the same party 
Helen Blun is going to 

“Yes ma’am,” said Lizzie to the astonishment of 
the girls who were spending the recess in the class 
room, and then to Lizzie’s astonishment. Miss Rob- 
son said : 

“You deserve to go to a party, Lizzie, when you 
are so sensible as not to take a whole day for it, but 
then you have brains, and so do not require so much 
dress.” 

All of which was treasured by the girls who were 
listening, m order to be told to Helen. 

Mrs. Blun did need Helen at home the whole day 
of the party, but it was without Mr. Blun’s knowl- 
edge, and Helen having grown nearly as clever as 
her mother in deception managed in such a way 
that when he went to his business that morning, he 
did not dream that his daughter was to remain at 
home. 

And Mrs. Blun had managed to get her fichu 
without her husband’s knowledge, and she was go- 
ing to have her hair dressed without asking his con- 
sent. Mr. Blun had given money to buy a paity 
dress for Helen, but he said his wife had already so 
many handsome dresses, it would be against his dis- 
cipline to buy her anotker. And if it had not been 


344 ^ GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT, 


for Miss Luxor, Mrs. Blun would not have had her 
fichu,, for that obliging little woman got and made 
Helen’s dress in such a way that while it was very 
pretty, it left enough money for the coveted lace. 

That was without Mr. Blun’s knowledge, however, 
nor did he know anything about the China silk till 
the day of the party. Then his wife burst upon him 
in such a blaze of blue glory, and with her hair so 
curled and puffed, that he started. 

‘‘Mrs. Blun !” he said as if he were not sure it 
was she. “ Mr. Blun !” she replied, making a mock 
courtesy, and tossing her very much dressed head. 

“ When,— where did you get such a dress?” he 
asked. 

“I bought it with the money you gave me to pay 
the washerwoman’s bill, last summer. Don’t you 
remember when you went to her house and paid it 
yourself ? You know 1 must do something, Blun 
dear, when you are so stingy.” 

Mr. Blun could not think immediately what to say, 
and before he could think, the parlor door opened 
and Helen and Miss Luxor came in. 

Miss Luxor said in her cheerful voice, 

“ How do you like us ?” and she put Helen for- 
ward till she stood directly in front of her father. 

Whatever the little woman’s taste was about her 
own dress, she had made Helen’s very prettily. Even 
Helen herself was delighted with it, and her looks 
pleased her father so much, he forgot a little what he 
wanted to say to his wife. 

Helen’s hair had grown a full inch or more, and it 
was so curly it lay in golden rings all over her head ; 
her forehead was very white, her cheeks a lovely 
pink, and the rest of her features were very pretty. 
It seemed if she had on anything else than that pure 
white simple dress she would not have looked half 
so well. 

Miss Luxor wore what had been her best dress for 
the past fifteen years ; to be sure it had not been 


A Cm VALRO US DEED, AND W3AT GAME OF 11, 345 


worn much during that time, and it was always care- 
fully wrapped in the half of a pure linen sheet, and 
put away in the little old-fashioned iron-bound box. 
It was a pea green watered silk, somewhat dull in 
color and lustre, but without a spot, or rent. A white 
net handkerchief took the place of the waist above 
the shoulders, and the sleeves below the elbow were 
deep ruffles of white lace. It was plain in the skirt 
but very full and long, making Miss Luxor look 
taller than she generally did. 

Fifteen years before it was probably, a handsome 
and suitable dress, but now it looked very old-fash- 
ioned indeed, so old-fashioned that it gave Mrs. Blun 
a shock, and she said with a start : 

“ Good Heavens !” 

But what she said did not seem to startle anybody, 
Mr, Blun thought Aunt Rebecca’s dress was ^ot half 
so out of place as his wife’s was, and Helen was too 
full of her own good looks to care much about it. 

Aunt Rebecca had another advantage in Mr. Blun’s 
eyes, the arrangement of her hair ; there was not a 
strand’s difference between it now and the way he 
always saw it, even to the little pieces that straggled 
out from her topknot ; they were all sticking out in 
the usual nianner, while his wife’s elaborately dressed 
head made him feel as if he were getting a fever. 

Possibly at the party Miss Luxor’s small size would 
save her from much notice, but just now, looking 
from her to the tall, buxom figure in light blue silk 
and white lace, she was an odd and amusing sight. 
Between the two the fair little girl in white looked 
lovelier than ever. 

As it was against Mr. Blun’s discipline to hire a 
carriage, his wife covered her party finer}^ with a 
long cloak, and Helen’s dress with a shawl, while 
Miss Luxor put on a cape. 

Then the}^ set forth, Mr. Blun in grim silence giv- 
ing an arm to each lady, and making a motion to 
Helen to walk before them. 


346 ^ CmVALRO US DEED, AND WEAT CAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

' Mrs. Morrel’s appearance when she was dressed 
for the party showed the good taste of Mrs. Tavish. 
In the rich ~ well fitting black silk the large figure 
seemed to have lost much of its clumsy size, and she 
looked so different and so well, that her husband 
could not find words enough to express his delight ; 
and his fond praise took away the last regret she had 
for the pink silk. 

Lizzie thinking much more about Mrs. Morrell’s 
appearance than her own, was also well satisfied, and 
could she have been sure that Mrs. Morrell would 
have very little to say at the party, she would have 
been quite happy. 

Lizzie’s dress was the simple white one advised by 
Mrs. Tavish, with the addition of a handsome cherry 
colored sash with knotted ends, and bows of the same 
color tying the ends of her two long thick braids of 
hair. In front her hair was combed back from her 
forehead as she always wore it. Dad said he liked 
it best that way when his wife spoke of curling it, 
and Lizzie liked it better too. 

To be sure, as Mrs. Morrell remarked, Lizzie’s dark 
skin was not at all improved by the white dress, but 
then, there was some truth in what her husband 
whispered to her ; that Lizzie’s eyes made up for her 
skin ; he’d be bound there wouldn’t be such unother 
pair of eyes in the whole party. And when he 
kissed the child, hardly daring to touch her with his 
hands lest he should disarrange her dresSj he said 
with a voice that trembled slightly ; 


A CBIVALJiOCrS AND WLIAT GAME OF IT. 347 

“You needn’t be afraid, Lizzie ; you’ll look as 
pretty as any of ’em.” 

Everybody in the tenement knew that Mrs. Morrell 
and her niece were going to a party at a very grand 
house ; they knew also the hour when the two would 
start, Mrs. Morrell having told them, so they all 
should be ready to look at her. And she was not 
disappointed ; women and children had gathered in 
the hallways, and on the landings, that marked the 
turn in the stairs, and they would have gone into 
Mrs. Morrell’s very rooms if ‘they had not been afraid 
of Mr. Morrell. 

Mrs. Morrell having arrived at the first little knot 
of sight seers stopped and took off her white crepe 
shawl so as to let them look upon her splendor. 
Lizzie got angry, and when Mrs. Morrell told her to 
take off her sacque, she said hotly : 

‘‘lam not going to show myself nere, and I’ll 
wait on the street till you get through showing your- 
self.” 

With the last word she dartea down the stairs. 

“ What an impident child,” said one of the women, 
who was angry that her curiosity had not been satis- 
fied with regard to Lizzie’s dress. 

“If she was mine,” said another, speaking from 
the same cause, “I’d take the impidence out of her.” 

Mrs. Morrell was also angry, but Just now her van- 
ity was stronger than her rage, and she said as she 
turned proudly around ; 

“It’s her uncle that’s spoiled her ; he doesn’t think 
nothing of giving her her own way in everything.” 

And then she forgot Lizzie, for everybody was ad- 
miring her ; and as she continued her way through 
the house, she was still more gratified, for she caught 
a glimpse of Mrs. Tappan peeping through a crevice 
in her door. Mrs. Morrell felt sure that Mrs. Tap- 
pan had heard all the fine things which were said of 
her (Mrs. Morrell’s) looks, and as she was so pleased 
she quite forgot that Lizzie had made her angry. 


348 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


Lizzie on reaching the street had seen Thimig in the 
doorway of the coffin shop, and there she went, not 
unwilling to show him the beauties of the dress she 
would not let the women in the house see. 

“My, hi, Lizzie!” he said, twisting his hands in 
his hair, “ you’re like one of them flyin’ angels wots 
painted on the church winder ; only they aint got 
such eyes ; your eyes is a shinin’ like a pair of shoot- 
in’ stars.” 

Lizzie laughed ; and put on her sacque ; then she 
went to the doorway. 

“lam going to stand here, Oleander, so Mrs. Mor- 
rell will see me.” 

Not knowing how many women and children 
might come down to the sidewalk with Mrs. Morrell, 
Lizzie thought it better to stay at a distance. To her 
disgust and annoyance, she had to wait a full quarter 
of an hour before Mrs. Morrell came forth, and then 
she was surrounded not only by those who had ad- 
mired her within the house, but by others who were 
waiting to admire her without, and as soon as they 
saw her, they all went towards her. Lizzie darted into 
the street without even waiting to say good bye to 
Thimig, and she went on in the direction she knew 
they must take, without once looking back. 

But Mrs. Morrell was not going to give up any of 
her pleasure ; it was not every day she had such a 
chance for vshowing herself, and now it should never 
besaid that “Orlander” did not have a look at her 
party dress. Perhaps, even Mr. Brush himself was in 
the shop, and it would not be acting fairly by him 
not to let him see it. 

So before “Orlander” she stopped, not caring how 
much ahead Lizzie was, and she took off her shawl : 
but the boy, instead of being overcome by admir- 
ation, seemed to lose all his little wits, for he began 
to go backward into the shop, putting up his hand 
in a frightened way and saying : 

“Ppn’t jrer, Mrs, Morrell ; now don’t yer.” 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT, 349 

‘‘I aint going to, Orlander,” she said ; having no 
idea of what it was he did not want her to do, but 
feeling she must assure him she was not going to. 

‘‘ Well then, don’t yer,’’ he said again, going back- 
ward still, and thinking with a sort of despair that 
even Brush was not there to protect him, though 
what it was he was afraid of he could not tell, only 
that Mrs. Morrell, having taken off her shawl, and 
having the crowd about her, scared him. 

“ Orlander,” she called, going after him, and the 
crowd going after her. 

“It’s black silk that’s coming. Don’t be afraid.” 

“Orlander,” had backed into an empty ice box 
turning a sort of somersault that put his feet instead 
of his face before the astonished crowd. A roar of 
laughter followed, Mrs. Morrell laughing also, and it 
got louder as Thimig trying to get up only flound- 
ered about more ridiculously, till one of the women 
went to help him, Mrs. Morrell kept away lest she 
might soil her dress. 

“Oh, Lor !” said Thimig when at length he found 
his feet instead of his head upon the ground. 

“I told yer not to, but yer would,” he meant that 
for Mrs. Morrell, but she, beginning to think that 
she was spending too much time, had turned about 
and was leaving the shop. 

Lizzie was nowhere in sight, but Mrs. Morrell was 
sure she should see her for the child would not dare 
to go without her. So, throwing her shawl again 
about her shoulders, she bade a general “good bye,” 
and actually ran to overtake Lizzie ; the sight of her 
running was almost as amusing as Thimig’s fall into 
the ice tub. Lizzie, angry and ashamed was stand- 
ing on the corner of the next street, and when she 
saw the big, panting figure, she made up her mind 
she would not say a word ; it would only make mat- 
ters worse to speak, so, when her aunt reached her, 
she turned in silence to go on. Mrs. Morrell could 
pot speak till she got back her breath, and somehow. 


350 ^ CniVALRO US DEED, A ND WHA T GAME OF IT. 

when she did get it back she seemed to be somewhnt 
afraid to say anything. Perhaps it was Lizzie’s silence 
that puzzled her, or a feeling that she herself had been 
acting very foolishly, that made her afraidto speak. 

The Ingoldsby mansion was very large, standing 
almost alone in the middle of a block. On one side 
was a carriage house fine enough Mrs. Morrell after- 
ward said, for a rich family to live in, and on the 
other side a beautifully laid out garden. The steps 
leading to the front door were very broad and grand. 
A dozen carriages stood in front of the house. All 
tills was too much for Mrs. Morrell to behold in si- 
lence. She caught hold of Lizzie’s shoulder and said 
in a sort of wild whisper : 

“Oh, Lizzie! isn’t it fine? and all the quality. 
Look at the carriages ! how will we go in ?” 

“Through tiie door, of course,” said Lizzie short- 
ly. She had noticed how elegant the house was al- 
so, but it only made her feel all the more what 
dreadful things Mrs. Morrell might do. 

Mrs. Morrell was thinking if her neighbors could 
only see all this. She courtesied to the man who 
opened the door, he looked so fine and grand, and 
then doing what Bartholomew told her to do, she 
gave him the note of invitation. 

The man took the note just as if he had been 
told to take it, but for all that, he asked the name. 

Mrs. Bartholomew Mortimer Morrell, at your ser- 
vice,” said Mrs. Morrell, and she would have courte- 
sied again only Lizzie pulled her : Lizzie thought 
the man was making fun of them, and she frowned at 
him ; when he asked, pointing to her : 

“ What is tlie name of the little Miss ?” 

“Elizabeth Morrell,” said her aunt ; she felt that 
Lizzie would never do for an occasion of this kind. 

“She’s Bartholomew Mortimer’s niece, so she’s a 
Morrell, and Bartholomew Mortimer, he’s my hus- 
band.” 

The cheeks of Bartholomew’s niece were as red as 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF 11 . 351 


her sash, and her big black eyes were flashing under 
her frowning brows ; the man at once looked very 
solemn, and he said politely ! 

“Follow me, please !” 

They followed him through a wide marble hall, 
and up stairs with such soft carpets on them Mrs. Mor- 
rell said they were like down beds, and into a room 
that seemed to be all blue satin and gold. 

Mrs. Morrell, so far from wanting to speak, felt 
almost as if she were afraid to breathe. She put her 
foot down as if she were trying not to crush some- 
thing, and she kept a tight hold of Lizzie, as if she 
didn’ t know but there might be some spell on her, 
for the like of this grandeur she had never seen be- 
fore. But she began to breathe freely again, and to 
loosen her hold of Lizzie, when she saw standing in 
the middle of the blue room an elderly woman 
dressed very plainly, and looking as if she belonged 
to the same class as Mrs. Morrell. She was smiling 
as if she knew them ; Lizzie in her astonishment, 
broke quite away from her aunt, saying : 

“ Aren’t you the woman that gave me some break- 
fast one morning ?” 

“ I am dear, the Yevy same, and I know all about 
you ; this is your aunt, Mrs. Morrell, isn’ t it ? How do 
you do, Mrs. Morrell ? I am very glad to know you.” 

Mrs. Morrell never having been told about Lizzie’s 
breakfast at the apple stand, was very much puz- 
zled ; but at the same time it was a great pleasure 
to meet some one who seemed like herself, and when 
the strange woman held out her hand, Mrs. Morrell' 
took it and shook it warmly. 

“ My name is Margaret Anthon the stranger went 
on, and 1 used to live in this family before I kept a 
stand, and now I’m back here again ; and Mr. Nevin 
had me come up here so as to make you two feel at 
home. No one else is to come into this room but 
you two ; you are to use it as your dressing room, 
and when you are ready, some one will come to bring 
you to the parlors.” 


352 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


Mr. Nevin,’^ said Mrs. Morrell, you mean Mr. 

said Margaret smiling, and then she told 
ame came to be Nevin. 

“Oh!” said Mrs. Morrell, and even Lizzie said 
“oh,” too, thinking what Nanny Tavish would say 
when she told her. 

And all this time, Mrs. Morrell was so taken up 
with what she heard, she did not even begin to un- 
pin her shawl, till Margaret said : 

“ Let me help you both to take off your things for 
some one will come for you soon.” 

In the excitement of seeing that her dress was just 
as it ought to be, and her hair as she had arranged 
it before she left home, and that Lizzie’s dress was 
in order, Mrs. Morrell forgot to ask about the break- 
fast at the apple stand, till Margaret chanced to 
speak of it again, then she said to Lizzie : 

“ I never heard about that.” 

Lizzie blushed and said quickly : 

“You know the day I was away from home so 
long.” 

Mrs. Morrell nodded. 

“ Well, that was the time,” and then she told how 
the woman asked her to have some coffee and bread. 

“But the day you came back to pay for the break- 
fast, the day Mr. Nevin saw you first, and it was that 
made him like you so much, the spirit you showed 
in doing that.” 

“ She brings that from the Morrells,” said Mrs. 
Morrelf proudly, “ not to speak of the training she’s 
always had from me.” 

“ I don’t doubt it,” said Margaret, “ for you have 
every look of being a fine, spirited woman.” 

That pleased Mrs. Morrell so much she did not 
mind a bit not having been told before about the 
“ breakfast,” nor did she even care to ask how Lizzie 
got the money to pay for it. Just at this point a 
servant came to know if Mrs. and Miss Morrell were 
ready to go to the parlor, 


Ingoldsby 

“No 

how his ni 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 353 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

No one who went to that strange party ever forgot 
it; the guests seemed to belong to such different class- 
es of people ; there were very grand looking, haughty 
ladies and gentlemen, and very pleasant looking cor- 
dial ladies and gentlemen ; there were stiff solemn 
looking old unmarried gentlemen, and stiaight, se- 
vere looking old unmarried ladies ; there were grave, 
prim young ladies, and pretty, lively young ladies ; 
there were richly dressed, proud mothers with richly 
dressed, proud little daughters, and there were rich, 
pompous fathers, and rich fathers who were not so 
pompous. But everybody seemed to feel that 
many of the other bodies should not have been in- 
vited ; and really it seemed to be the queerest party 
that ever was given. Egbert was so delighted with 
it, he was laughing to himself all the time. 

His step-father and brother were furious ; he could 
see that though they did not dare to say a word, and 
they had to smile and say pleasant things when 
their hearts were filled with rage ; and they had to 
hear from some of the guests sneering remarks not 
meant for them to hear. Nevin himself heard some 
of the remarks but he only smiled the more. It was 
just what he wanted ; society” was showing what 
it was. 

Cornelia did her best to make everybody feel 
happy, though she was anything but happy her- 
self, knowing how her father and brother felt, and 


354 ^ CmVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 

thinking of how “society’’ would talk the next day. 
She was dressed very simply in pure white, and her 
dress instead of fitting closely to her figure fell 
about her in soft folds, and was confined loosely at 
the waist by a blue girdle. 

There were four parlors, two on each side of the 
hall. 

The furniture had been Egbert’s choosing, and 
while it was very elegant it was not at all like the 
parlors of society people ; but as everything cost a 
great deal, society people could say nothing. An- 
other of his whims was to have the parlors on this 
afternoon, lighted by wax candles ; he thought that 
would please the children. Then there were stands 
of natural flowers everywhere, and the lights, and 
the fragrance, and the rooms with their very high 
ceilings, gave some of the society people in spite of 
their airs, a good deal of longing and envy. 

Mrs. Blun felt her heart beat very quickly : this 
surely was going to give her what she had been want- 
ing for so many years, a place in society : but when 
she saw the cold way in which she was received, and 
heard a haughty looking lady say : 

“ Who are these Bluns ? they cannot be in society, 
or I should have heard of them before.” her hopes 
were considerably dashed. 

Mr. Blun was thinking how undisciplined most of 
the people were, who were there, bat Helen and Miss 
Luxor were enjoying it to their heart’s content. 

The purse proud bodies received a severe shock 
when they saw Nevin enter with Mrs. Morrell on his 
arm, and holding Lizzie by the hand. 

Mrs. Morrell courtesied when she was introduced, 
and when Nevin said : 

“This is Mr. Ingoldsby, my step-father, Mrs. Mor- 
rell,” she replied, sinking almost to the floor : 

“Your servant, sir ; I’m glad to see you.” 

Those of the company who were natural enough to 
see the hurnor of it all, found it very hard to keep 


A GBIVALRO U 8 DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 355 

from laughing, and all the more that Mr. Ingoldsby 
looked as if he were about to have a fit. 

‘‘Is it me, Maria Morrell, tliat’s here, or isn’t it 
me?” the gratified woman kept jisking herself. 

To Lizzie, the scene was like fairy land, and her 
wonder and delight kept her at first from thinking 
much about her aunt ; and very soon Nevin put her 
in charge of Cornelia. Cornelia did not remember she 
had ever seen Lizzie before, but she thought as she 
looked at the bright little face and beautiful eyes, 
that it was no wonder Egbert felt an interest in her. 

Nevin went on with Mrs. Morrell to the Bluns, 
and when she saw Mr. and Mrs. Blun she was so 
surprised, she could, as she said herself “ have been 
knocked down with a feather.” Mrs. Blun knew Mrs. 
Morrell at once ; but she did not make this fact 
known ; not so with her husband ; the change in Mrs. 
Morrell’s dress puzzled him, and he said in a very 
friendly tone to the horror of his wife : 

“Have I not seen you somewhere, before, Mrs. 
Morrell ?” 

“Indeed you have, Mr. Blun ; don’t you remem- 
ber the day you walked with me on one of you arms, 
and your wife on the other ?” 

Mr. Blun did remember it, and it was part of his 
discipline to show that he was not ashamed to re- 
member it ; he even introduced her to Aunt Rebecca 
— Helen was in another parlor with the little girls 
now, and Nevin feeling that he could leave Mrs. 
Morrell with Mr. Blun for a little while, went to see 
how Cornelia was getting on with the children. 

They were all in the parlor where Lizzie’s drawing 
hung, and when Lizzie saw that, it made her forget 
her bad feelings of Helen Blun. Helen could hardly 
believe her eyes when she saw Lizzie Morrell ; she 
could not understand it, and in her surprise and an- 
ger she did not recognize her. Miss Ingoldsby, 
not dreaming they had ever met before, introduced 
them to each other, and neither Helen nor Lizzie 


356 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, A ND WHA T GAME OF IT. 


showed that they had ever seen each other before. 

As Lizzie looked at her drawing, it was in a neat, 
pretty frame, she thought : 

“ If only Dad could see it.” 

Miss Ingoldsby watching her, saw the color rise in 
her cheeks, and she thought there were tears in the 
big black eyes. 

“Do you know that little drawing?” she asked 
softly. 

Lizzie smiled, but she could not speak ; if she had, 
she would have burst into thehapihest tears she had 
ever shed. 

The mammas of the other little girls found their 
way into the parlor just as Miss Ingoldsby thinking 
to do Lizzie a kindness and an honor, brought the 
children to look at the drawing. 

“ My brother bought it,” she said, “and he had it 
hung here ; it was done by this little girl,” placing 
her hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. 

Lizzie had not expected anything like this, and 
she did not want it. She shrank back, her face cov- 
ered with blushes. Had Mr. Nevin been there she 
felt she would not have to bear this. Cornelia saw 
she had made a mistake, but it was too late to help it 
now, and one of the mammas said : 

“ It is very crude to be hung there.” 

A second remarked : 

“ It is quite a foil to the pictures on each side of it.” 

A third mamma said : 

“ Do you suppose the child will ever learn to draw 
well ?” 

The others said nothing, but they looked in such 
a scornful way that it made Lizzie shiver. Helen 
Blun whose surprise at hearing it was Lizzie’s draw- 
ing had given place to envy,' began to feel better 
since it was thought so little of after all. Lizzie wwld 
like to have wrenched the sketch from the wall and 
torn it to ribbons. 

Cornelia was in great distress and she was angry 


A C^mrALI^O ifs DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF If. 357 

as well, and the first chance she had, she told it all 
to Egbert. He only smiled, but his sister knew his 
smile meant a great deal. 

After a little, there was music ; then there were 
children’s dances followed by children’s games. 
Egbert managed all, and everybody had to take part. 

When it was time to goto supper Egbert wicked- 
ly contrived to have his step-father give his arm to 
Mrs. Morrell, Edwin take Miss Luxor, while he him- 
self, led the way with Mrs. Blun ; and he led it 
through the parlor where Lizzie’s little drawing 
hung. He stopped before the drawing, and drew 
the attention of all the company ; then he told how 
he had got the sketch and why he had placed it 
there, but without giving Lizzie’s name, and he asked 
everybody to notice how well it was done, and how 
it showed that the little girl who did it, would after 
a while be able to do very fine work indeed. 

“ Why, that’s my Lizzie, he’s talking about,” said 
Mrs. Morrell in a burst of delighted surprise to those 
about her. Lizzie did not hear her aunt, being too 
far down the line, but she had heard every thing Mr. 
Kevin said, he had spoken so loud, and she kept her 
eyes down not daring to look up. How thankful she 
was he did not tell her name ; if only Miss Ingoldsby 
had not told it. 

The ladies who had spoken so sneeringly of the 
little drawing before, felt obliged to smile now, for 
Egbert was looking in such a very pointed way from 
one to the other of them. 

Helen’s envy of Lizzie all came back, and she felt 
as if there were no more pleasure in the party. Mrs. 
Blun never dreaming who Mr. Nevin was talking a- 
bout, listened, not caring much what he said, till she 
heard Mrs. Morrell’s speech ; that gave her a shock 
— the little black eyed niece of that vulgar woman 
praised like that before all the company was almost 
more than she could bear. 

Never in her whole life had Mrs. Morrell been so 


358 ^ GBlVALUOm DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF If. 


proud or so happy : she had felt just a little bit shy 
leaning on Mr. Ingoldsby’s arm, and trying to 
think what she should say to make him talk ; he 
was so grimly silent ; but this praise of Lizzie from 
Mr. Nevin placed her quite at her ease. 

“ You see Mr. Ingoldsby, that my Lizzie’s a won- 
derful child,” she remarked. “ Bartholomew Mor- 
timer, that’s my husband, found it out quick’rn 
I did, but I know it now for certain. What’s the 
matter ? Got a crick in your knee 

The angry old gentleman had drawn back from her 
so quickly she was sure he must have a pain of some 
kind. But he did not speak. Those who heard her 
were laughing to themselves. 

Egbert resumed the way to the supper room, and 
old Mr. Ingoldsby trusted that his ignorant compan- 
ion would not speak any more. But she clutched 
his arm as if it were a sledge hammer, and said again : 

“If that was a crick in any of your jints, Mr. In- 
goldsby, you ought to be careful, for that was just 
the way my Bartholomew Mortimer got his rheu- 
matism first ; a simple crick in his knee, but he 
didn’t pay any attention to it, and he got that bad, 
he had to sit in red flannel all day, with nobody to 
talk to a good deal of the time but a parrot. Now 
Mr. Ingoldsby dear, take warning by my Bartholo- 
mew Mortimer, and don’t let it come to red flannel 
with you.” 

There were a good many strange sounds by them, 
and Mr. Ingoldsby was so furious his face got more 
purple than red. Only for what he already owed to 
his step-son, but more still what he hoped to get 
from him, he would have told this abominable woman 
what he thought of her. 

At table it was worse. Mrs. Morrell did not think 
for a minute she was acting out of the way ; in fact, 
she thought the more at home she made herself the 
more respect the company would have for her, and 
when she heard them laugh, for at length nobody 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WUAT GAME OB'’ IT. 359 

could lielp it, slie did not dream they were laughing 
at her. 

At table, Mrs. Blun was seated on the other side 
of old Mr. Ingoldsby, and opposite were Edwin and 
Miss Luxor. The little girls had a table to them- 
selves in another part of the room. Mr. Blun hav- 
ing acted as escort for one of the mammas, found his 
seat quite away from his wife and Mrs. Morrell. 

Egbert took charge of the children and he made so 
much amusement for them, that Helen forgot her 
envy, and Lizzie actually forgot Mrs. Morrell. But 
those who were seated near Mrs. Morrell could not 
forget her ; she said too many dreadful things. She 
praised the elegant furniture, she supposed the dec- 
orations of the table had cost a mint of money, and 
she even asked Mr. Ingoldsby the name of something 
that had been put on her plate. He told her very 
shortly, and she said she must get some of it for Bar- 
tholomew, now that his rheumatism was better, and 
the doctor let him eat something besides dry toast 
and tomatoes. 

Cornelia felt sorry for her father ; he looked as if 
he might burst a blood vessel, and the way that he 
sometimes turned and glared at Mrs. Morrell, made 
his daughter shiver. It did not affect the vulgar 
woman herself, however, because she did not see 
him ; she was looking at the good things on her plate 
even while she was talking. 

Edwin seeing and hearing all, was as angry as his 
father was, but he hid his feelings, and he talked to 
Miss Luxor, — he had found that the odd looking 
little woman could talk very well indeed — as if he 
neither saw nor heard what was going on opposite. 

Mrs. Blun was delighted. It seemed to make up 
for all the past to have Mrs. Morrell show how dread- 
fully ill bred and vulgar she was ; but her delight 
was not to last. 

Mrs. Morrell having filled herself with the good 
things, looked at Mr. Ingoldsby’ s plate, and seeing 


360 ^ GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF iT. 


that he had taken nothing — he could not because 
rage was choking him — she said very affection- 
ately : 

‘‘ You’re not eating, Mr. Ingoldsby dear. That’s 
a bad sign when your appetite goes at the same time 
a crick in your knee comes.” 

Mr. Ingoldsby told the waiter to remove his plate, 
and Mrs. Blun laughed. Mrs. Morrell heard her, 
and thinking she bad laughed to show that she did 
not believe about the bones and the loss of appetite, 
she said, raising her voice a note higher : 

“ Indeed, it’s so ; and if you don’t believe me, you 
can ask Mrs. Tavish. She had rheumatism in the 
West, and that’s the very way it came ; she told me 
so.” 

Edwin Ingoldsby stopped so short in what he was 
saying to Miss Luxor, that the little lady looked 
up at him in surprise ; Cornelia turned as white as her 
dress and glanced over at Egbert ; but he was too far 
away to have heard anything : if only he had heard 
she thought. 

Old Mr. Ingoldsby got up from his chair ; then, 
he seemed to think of himself, and he dropped into 
it again ; but so heavily, Mrs. Morrell begged him to 
be careful. 

For,” she went on, if you have rheumatism in 
your bones, you can’t afford to use ’em that way, or 
they’ll be get tin’ cricket fy before you know it.” 

Mrs. Blun was trembling lest this dreadful woman 
should come out with the whole story of the visit to 
Mrs. Tavish. Instead of laughing any more, she 
only looked scared and white, and she wished with 
all her heart the party was over. She had enough 
of society. 

But she was saved any further shame. Edwin be- 
gan to talk across the table to Mrs. Morrell. It was 
dreadful to have to do it, but he must get her away 
from the subject of Mrs. Tavish before Egbert should 
hear her. So he went on speaking about things that 


A GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WEA f GAME OF If. 361 


he thought she might know, much to the surprise 
of his father and his guests. 

At length the queer party was over ; before nine 
o’clock the Ingoldsby family was left to itself. 

The old gentleman felt he must say something, and 
Edwin that he must protest, and they both turned 
upon Egbert the full force of their anger, forgetting 
for the moment the presence of Cornelia ; she sat 
tired and limp in a corner. 

Mr. Ingoldsby began : 

“Well, sir, are you satisfied with the insult you 
have put upon your family, by bringing that ignor- 
ant, vulgar woman here 

Edwin added : 

“You have made us the laughing stock of society : 
I should not be surprised to see an account of it in 
some of the papers. And what good has it done ? 
has it given pleasure to anybody except that hor- 
rible Mrs. Morrell? She certainly had the honors of 
the evening.” 

Egbert answered his step-father first : 

“Am I satisfied, sir, you ask ; I am more than satis- 
fied : I am avenged.” 

He turned to Edwin. 

“I have made you a laughing stock for society ? 
Then you ought to give up such society. Come Cor- 
nelia.” 

He crossed to his sister, and gave her his arm ; 
they left the room together. 

Idrs. Morrell was perhaps the haj^piest of all who 
had been at the party, and Lizzie was hardly less 
happy. She had neither seen nor heard the drendfiil 
things her aunt had done, and the thoughts of where 
her little drawing was hung, and what Mr. Nevin 
had said about it, gave her so much delight she 
thought they never would get home to tell Dad. 

And what Dad had not known to take place in his 
whole life before, they both kissed him together, and 
talked to him at the same time. 


362 ^ CmVALRO US DEED, AND WBA T CAME OF IT. 

“It beat all that ever you heard tell of,” said his 
wife. 

“And if you could only have seen it, Dad,” said 
Lizzie. 

“ They had flowers in the parlors as high as this 
ceiling,” said his wife. 

“It was hung between two beautiful paintings,” 
said Lizzie. 

“And the wax lights, and the silver and glass ware 
on the table, would take the sight out of your eyes,” 
said Mrs. Morrell. 

“And he told all the company about it,” said Lizzie. 

“And young Mr. Ingoldsby stopped talking to the 
lady he took to supper, to talk to me,” said Mrs. 
Morrell. 

“ And he was so kind, I just love him in my heart,” 
Lizzie went on, meaning Mr. Nevin, but her uncle 
was so puzzled by the way they were both talking 
to him, that he didnH know whom she meant. Mrs. 
Morrell resumed : 

“And the old man himself, old Mr. Ingoldsby ; 
oh, Bartholomew, dear, he paid me such attention, 
it was a sight to see him.” 

“ Oh, but Mr. Nevin,” said Lizzie, “ he was so 
kind.” 

“ Who is Mr. Nevin ?” asked her uncle. 

“Oh, we forgot,” said Lizzie and Mrs. Morrell to- 
gether, “ his name isn’t Ingoldsb}^” and then they 
went on talking together, till he had to say : 

“ Maria dear ; Lizzie dear ; go it one at a time, or 
I’ll never have a clear idea of what you’re saying.” 

“ Well, you talk then,” said Lizzie to Mrs. Mor- 
rell, “and I’ll talk after.” 

And Mrs. Morrell did talk, telling about the 
Blun’s and wishing Mrs. Lavish had been there, so 
that Mrs. Blun could have met her two washer- 
women, and she did not even forget Margaret An- 
thon ; then she told about the supper but she so mix- 
ed her account of that with^the names of the guests 


A CHIVA LRO US DEED, ASD WHA T GAME OF If . 363 

she was introduced to, that wlien she got through, 
Bai-tholoinew was not sure but ‘‘ Fatly defoygwa ’’ 
as Ml'S. Morrell pronounced it— she meant “Patefoi 
de gras,^^ was the name of a guest— some foreigner 
lie thought,— and Miss Perdigrew something that 
would be good for him to eat. 

Tiien Lizzie had to talk, and at length when mid- 
night struck, Mr. Morrell said : 

“ Whenever are you two going to bed ? and you,” 
pinching Lizzie's cheek, ‘‘ will want to go to school 
to-morrow to hear what that little Blun girl will 
have to say ; won’ t you 

‘‘I don’t care,” said Lizzie, ‘‘but I don’t think 
she’ll dare to say a great deal.” 

“ She’s like her mother,” broke in Mrs. Morrell, 
“and you served her right, Lizzie.” 

Bartholomew said gently. 

“ It was just her human nature, Maria, and she’s 
only a child. Don’t you be too hard on her, to-mor- 
row, Lizzie: seeing as you had so much honor at 
the party, it’ll be easy for you to treat her well.” 

“Oh, I won’t say anything to her,” said Lizzie, 
“I’ll just let her say all slie wants to about me.” 

Helen Blun came back from tlie party cross, dis- 
appointed, and full of envy. She was looked down 
upon by the six little girls because her dress was so 
much cheaper than theirs; no one had seemed to 
notice her pretty face, and that horrid Lizzie Mor- 
rel had been set above everybody else by Mr. Nevia ; 
then, there was the next day at school to dread, 
when the girls would ask her all sorts ot‘ questions, 
and what should she say, knowing that Lizzie Mor- 
rell would be there to tell whether she were speak- 
ing truly, or not % She felt almost as wretched as 
she had felt about the shaker bonnet and going 
home from the party on the wa5^ to the omnibus, she 
was so full of her unhappy feelings she did not seem 
to know where she was walking. She struck her toes 
against the curb of the gutters, she stumbled over 


364 ^ GEIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OP if, 

loose flags in the sidewalk, and she slipped in the 
strangest way, till at length, just as her father had 
liailed an omnibus, she fell flat into a muddy gutter. 
That of course, stopped them all, and it gave Mrs. 
Blun a chance to say sharply : 

“ This comes of being too stingy to hire a carriage. 
Get up Helen shaking the child ; it made her feel 
better to shake somebody — tlie ruin of your dress 
is more than the carriage hire.” 

It was not because I was too stingy, Mrs. Blun,” 
said her husband, ‘‘but because it was against my 
principles.” 

Aunt Rebecca gently touclied his elbow. 

‘‘Don’t say anything more to-night,” she whis- 
pered. He actually turned from his wife to Helen 
without saying another word. 

Helen’s shawl had become unfastened in her fall, 
so there was nothing to keep her white dress from 
the muddy gutter, and when she got up, with her 
tears, and the dirt and disorder of her dress, she was 
a sad sight. 

But Aunt Rebecca was at her side, whispering : 

“ Don’t cry, Helen ! I’ll clean your dress.” 

The impatient driver of the omnibus called out : 

“ Are you people going to take this ere ’bus, or 
do you calkilate on keeping a poor man here with 
his horses all niglit?” 

Mr. Blun hurried his party into the omnibus. 
When they got home Aunt Rebecca, finding that 
Helen was not going to get much notice from her 
mother, went with the little girl to her room; she 
helped her to undress, saying at the same time so 
many kind, cheerful things that Helen felt as she 
laid her poor little, tired and half aching head on 
the pillow, as if she ought to be ashamed for think- 
ing so meanly of Aunt Rebecca ; to-night Miss Luxor 
was not at all like a prim, little old maid, but like a 
real angel. 

Mr. and Mrs. Blun said nothing to each other ; 


A GEIYALROVS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT 365 

Mr. Blun because of Aunt Rebecca’s whisper, and 
Mrs. Blun because she wanted him to speak first ; 
then she would tell him what she thought of Ms 
friends,— Mr. Nevin, and the Ingoldsbys. She was 
cured however of wanting to get into society, and 
when she was undressing she fairly tore \\\^ fichu 
from her neck, and threw the China silk as far from 
her as possible. All that she had gained by the 
dress did not begin to make up for the mortification 
it had cost her. 

In the morning poor Helen had to bear the clamors 
of her brothers and sisters, and to tell them about 
the party : they went into her room while waiting 
for the breakfast bell, having snatched the chance 
when Aunt Rebecca was busy with little Harry. 

‘‘Wasn’t there no little boy there at all asked 
Walter. 

“No,” said Helen crossly. 

“ What a funny, poky party, without any boys,” 
said Arden. 

“What kind of dresses did the other little girls 
have on 1” said Susie. 

“Was ’oo dess the pittiest ?” asked Lulu. 

“What did you do at the party anyhow ?” asked 
Walter, not waiting for Helen to answer the others. 

“ Was Mr. Neviri nice, just as he is when he comes 
here?” said Arden, like his brother not waiting to 
have Helen answer anybody else ; and as Susie had 
made up her mind to find out what she wanted, she 
said again : 

“ Say, Helen ; what kind of dresses did the other 
little girls have on ? oh ! tell me.” 

Lulu, get ling no answer to her question changed 
it to : 

“ Did ’oo have lots o’ tandy ?” and she pulled as 
hard as she could at Helen’s dress. 

“ I wish every one of you would let me alone,” 
said Helen in a passion, and pulling her dress from 
Lulu in such a way it sent that young lady sprawl- 


366 ^ CEIVALRO VS DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 

ing on her back, but as she was not hurt she did 
not scream, and she only said when she got up : 

“’Oos a toss ting.” 

Walter took her part. 

“She is a cross thing. Lulu;” he said, “and I 
guess they didn’t have anything but picldes at the 
old party ; and that’s what makes her so sour. A 
party with pickles and girls — joily, aint it?” He 
burst into a boyish roar of laughter, and everybody 
else laughed too, except Helen. She was furious. 
It was bad enough to have to dread what the girls 
in school should say, but to be compelled to bear this, 
was too much, and she tried to slap them all and to 
drive them from the room. Then began one of their 
old fights, such as they used to have before Aunt Re- 
becca came, and Helen was forced to the floor by the 
united strength of her brothers, and as she lay there 
struggling against their blows and pinches. Aunt 
Rebecca came upon the scene. The boys desisted 
at once though she did not say a single harsh word, 
nor raise her voice ; but the way she called “Wal- 
ter,” and the way she looked at him, made him cry 
out : 

“I’m real sorry, Aunt Rebecca, but Helen got 
so cross because we asked her about the party, and 
then we forgot ourselves.” 

The nurse smiled. 

“I believe you,” she said “and it was disappoint- 
ing not to be told about it, but Helen is tired, and we 
must not expect too much of her the very next morn- 
ing after the party. And then it was a little too bad 
of you to come down to her room this way. But 
we’ll talk about all that afterwards, and as I was at 
the party too, by and by I’ll give you my account 
of it.” 

“I wish you was Helen,” said Arden in his ad- 
miration of Aunt Rebecca. 

The breakfast bell began to ring. Helen was not at 
all ready for it owing to the treatment her dress got 


A cm VALRO US DEED, AND WUAT GAME OF IT. 367 

while she was on the floor ; the others bore no more 
trace of the fight than rumpled hair and flushed 
cheeks. But Aunt Rebecca had them all in order 
in a moment ; covering up Helen’ s soiled dress with a 
clean apron, and brushing her short curls out of their 
tangle. 

When they were all seated at table no one would 
dream that there had been such an uproar among the 
children a few minutes before, nor that at the pres- 
ent moment there was a storm raging in Mrs. Blun’s 
heart. If her husband would only say something 
about the party that would give her chance to speak ; 
but not a word did he utter. Mrs. Blun looked 
at Miss Luxor. That little woman seemed very 
happy, smiling at the children, attending to their 
needs in a quiet, watchful way, and when she had to 
correct their table manners doing it with a rare gen- 
tleness and tact. 

This made Mrs. Blun still more angry. What 
business had anybody like Rebecca Luxor, a mere 
servant, if she was Mr. Blun’s aunt, to be always so 
contented and to get along so much better with 
the children than even she, their own mother did ? 
She was glad, when the meal was over, and her hus- 
band had gone to business, and Helen to school, and 
the children had been taken up stairs by Aunt Re- 
becca. Even then, she did not know what to do with 
herself being in no humor for either novel reading or 
fancy work, and even if she went out calling, she 
could not say much about her society success The 
party had been a sore disappointment ; not one of 
the company had said he or she would like to meet 
her again, and whenever she thought of Mrs. Mor- 
rell she lost her temper entirely. 


368 


A CBIVALWUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER XXXYIL 

Helen Blun went to school the next morning 
feeling very much as she had felt the morning when 
obliged to wear the shaker bonnet. Lizzie Morrell 
was the cause of her shame then ; and Lizzie Mor- 
rell was the cause of all her unhappy feelings now. 
‘‘ Always Lizzie Morrell,” she said bitterly to her- 
self, and then she wished Lizzie Morrell would die, 
or move away, she didn’t care which. She walked 
slowly so as to get into the class room at the last 
minute ; that would give the girls no chance to ask 
her anything : but when she came in. Miss Robson 
said to her : 

“ The party’s been too much for you, Helen ; there’s 
Lizzie Morrell in her place, and she went to the same 
party, and she did not have to stay home a whole day 
for it either. But I forgot ; your dress was so fine, 
I suppose it took as much time to take it off as to put 
it on, and so you had to sleep later.” 

That cut poor Helen to the quick, but she hungup 
her bonnet and sacque, and took her place on the line 
trying to look as if she did not care ; but every girl 
in the class knew she did care very much, for her 
face got red, and she did not seem to be able to do 
anything but look at her finger nails. 

At recess Lizzie and Xanny went off to talk in a 
corner, and the other girls crowded round Helen to 
hear about the party, and to express their surprise 
that she and Lizzie should have gone to the same 
place. 


A cm VALRO US DEED AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 369 

“ And all the week you never told us that Lizzie 
was going, and Lizzie never said a word about going/’ 
said one. 

‘‘I didn’t know Lizzie was going,” said Helen, and 
then, seeing that Lizzie was quite out of the way, 
she added : 

‘‘ r m sure I don’ t know how she came to get an in- 
vitation, for you know the Ingoldsby’s are very rich 
and grand. You ouglit to see the house they live 
in and the servants they have.’" 

“Yes, yes /' said one impatient little girl, “Liz- 
zie told us this morning about the house. She got to 
school awful early — just to talk about it, I guess.’' 

“Oh, did shef’ said Helen with a smile, “that 
shows she isn’t used to such things, I wasn't in any 
hurry to get here to talk about it. I took my time 
more than usual this morning.’' 

“I guess you did,” laughed one of the girls. “ it 
made Miss Hobson speak to you the way she did.” 

“But that wasn’t as bad as what Miss Hobson 
said about you yesterday, when Lizzie Morrell told 
her she was going to stay home, to go to the party,” 
said another. 

“ About me ?” asked Helen very much sur- 
prised. 

“ She didn’t say your name, but she meant you,” 
and the little girl went onto tell all that the teacher 
had said. 

Helen turned redder than ever. 

“I guess I’ve got just as much brains as Lizzie 
Morrell has,” she said angrily,” and it* Miss Hobson 
speaks like that again. I’ll tell her so.” 

“No, you won’t said the girl who had spoken 
before, “you w^ouldn’t dare to.” 

“ I would dare to,” said Helen with a great show 
of courage, since this was all in the yard, and Miss 
Hobson w^as at a safe distance, “and 1 think Miss 
Hobson is the hatefulest teacher in this whole city.” 

“ Never mind about Miss Hobson,” said another 


370 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT 

little girl, but tell us about the party. T m just dy- 
ing to hear what kind the dresses were — we could n’ t 
get anything from Lizzie Morrell but that every 
thing was lovely. We asked how you looked, and 
she said you were the prettiest girl there.” 

' “Did she?” said Helen, utterly confounded by 
that piece of news , it did not seem possible that 
Lizzie had said that. 

“ What else did she say ?” she asked. 

“Nothing,” was the reply from two, or three of 
the girls at once, and then one went on, “ only what 
we told you before, how beautiful the house was, 
and about the games you all played— that’s all.” 

Helen was more astonished than she had been be- 
fore. Could it be possible that Lizzie had not told 
about her drawing, and how she and Helen liad met 
at the party as if they were strangers ? She could 
not understand it, for she knew, that l)ad she been 
in Lizzie’s place, she would have boasied of it for a 
week. But, to hear that Lizzie liad been thus nobly 
silent, took away a good deal of Helen’s bitter feel- 
ing ; it did not, however, make Helen noble enough 
to tell of the honor that had been paid Lizzie at the 
party, and after a little, she even began to boast in 
her old way, not meaning to boast very much, but 
forgetting herself in the heat of it, till when she fin- 
ished, the girls thought no one at the party had been 
thought as much of as Helen, and that Helen’s mother 
was the best dressed lady there. Then some one 
asked Helen who took Lizzie to the party ; Lizzie had 
been most careful not to tell that. 

“Her aunt, Mrs. Morrell,” Helen replied. 

There was a chorus of “ ohs,” and the girls crowded 
more closely about Helen expecting to hear some 
amusing things of Lizzie’s aunt ; but after the little 
girls complimentary remark about Helen, the latter 
could not find it in her heart to say anything un- 
kind of Mrs. Morrell, and she said nothing. 

One of the girls asked ; 


A CBIVALHOUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF II, 371 


‘‘ Wiiat did Mrs. Morrell wear, and bow did she 
act?’’ 

“ She wore a black silk dress, and she acted very 
well,” Helen answered. 

Mr. Morrell had whispered to Lizzie that morn- 
ing: 

“Be easy with that little Blun girl ; don’t say 
nothing to rile her ; remember it’s human nature, 
Lizzie, and we must be patient with human nature.” 

The words stayed with the child all the way to 
school, and when she found on reaching the class 
room that Helen had not yet come, and that the girls 
were impatient to hear about the party, her uncle’s 
words seemed to ring in her ears louder than ever. She 
made up her mind to say only pleasant things about 
Helen, then if anybody reported them Helen would 
not feel unhappy. 

She could not bring herself to tell the girls about 
her sketch ; it would seem so like boasting, and 
there was no chance till recess to talk to Nanny 
apart. So, now in a corner of the 3^ard she was de- 
lightedly telling it all, and Nanny seemed to be 
listening with just as much delight. She quite 
agreed with Lizzie that it was just like a story ; in- 
deed, it would have done for one of her own little ro- 
mances only that she disliked the Ingoldsbys too 
much to write about them. 

What wonderful good fortune Lizzie had. Of 
course Nanny was glad for Lizzie’s sake, but why 
could she not have such good luck? Why, when Miss 
Ingoldsby seemed to be going to take an interest in 
her, did she stop all at once ? was it because her 
mother was a washerwoman, or was it because Miss 
Ingoldsby saw something in her she did not like? 

All these thoughts made Nanny very quiet, and 
kept her looking down at the ground till Lizzie 
wondered at it ; then Lizzie became a little sad also^ 
thinking that what she had told must have pained 
Nanny instead of having pleased her, But, just 


S7'} ^4 CHIVALROUS DEED. AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

then, Nanny looked up, and reading in Lizzie’s eyes 
something of the little girl’s feeling’s, she threw her 
arms round her neck, and said : 

“ Oh, Lizzie !' it isn’ t that I’m not ever so glad for 
your sake, but I couldn’t help thinking of rhe way 
Miss Ingoldsby treated me. I am glad for you, Liz- 
zie, ever so glad,” and she kissed Lizzie again and 
again. 

Lizzie in return put her arm round Nanny’s waist, 
and said : . 

‘‘ Do you think tliat I am going to let this Mr, 
Nevin and his sister, Miss Ingoldsby, behind to me 
without telling them about you f ’ 

“Don’t,” said Nanny, showing a good deal of 
spirit, “doesn’t Miss Ingoldsby know a good deal 
about me, already f ’ 

“Yes; I know that,” said Lizzie, “but Mr. 
Nevin doesn’t, and it was Mr. Nevin found me out, 
and I know he would like you, Nanny, and then he 
isn’t Miss Ingoldsby’s own brother — don’t you see ? 
so he might be ever so much nicer, and anyway, I 
think he IS.” 

There was a good deal in that, Nanny thought, 
but still she would not have Lizziy say anything till 
she should ask her mother about it, and so she told 
Lizzie, adding . 

“But Miss Ingoldsby wouldn’t let her brother 
think any more of me than she does.” 

“Vyell, anyhow/’ said Lizzie, ])utting her arm 
more tightly round Nanny’s waist, “ when I get big, 
if I can make pictures that people will buy, you 
shall have some of the money, for we are going to be 
sisters, aren’t we.?” 

“Yes ; we’ll be sisters,” was the reply, “but I won t 
take your mone\/ Lizzie. I’ll do some kind of work, 
myself.” 

After that conversation, rtie day seemed very long 
to Nanny ; she was so impatient to get home to talk 
to her mother. She did not know that Mrs. Morrell 


A GHIVA LRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 373 


would have been with her mother long before three 
o’clock, and would have told all that she herself had 
heard from Lizzie ; and when she did get home, 
bounding breathless into the room, she almost 
screamed in surprise and fright : 

‘‘Mamma, what is the matter f ’ 

Mrs. Tavish was seated by the ironing table, her 
hands clasped idly in her lap, and her face as white 
as the cloth that covered the table. She roused 
herself at the sound of the child’s voice, and smiled ; 
but the smile only frightened Nanny more, it was so 
sad, so utterly unlike her mother’s smile. 

“ I’am not very well,” Mrs. Tavish said, trying to 
speak cheerfully, but her voice was faint and trem- 
bling, and a blue line seemed to come about her lips. 

“It’s a weak turn that came on when Mrs. Morrell 
was here, this morning. It frightened her a little, but 
I knew it would pass away ; and I am even better 
now, dear,” taking Nanny on her lap and kissing 
her. 

The party. Miss Ingoldsby, Mr. Nevin, Lizzie 
Morrell’s good fortune, no longer had a place in 
Nanny’s thoughts ; anxiety about her mother had 
driven out everything else, and she clung to her and 
sobbed : 

“You are not going to be sick, mamma — you are 
not going to die.” 

“ No, dear ; not yet ; I feel that God will not take 
me from you, my precious, for a little wiiile.” 

“ A little while ! only a little while— oh, mamma!” 

The anguish in the little one’s voice made the 
mother’s face grow paler, but she said calmly : 

“ VVe must he satisfied darling with whatever hap- 
pens, for God will do what is best, but we won’t 
talk about that now. And I am better ; indeed I 
am. Now get your bread and milk, and I’ll go to 
my work again.” 

It seemed to the child as if from that afternoon a 
great change had come to them both ; a change 


374 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

surely had come to her mother — she fell so often 
into long tits of thought ; she had many “ weak 
turns,” she often did her work as if she had no 
strength for it, but with it all she seemed to grow 
more and more tender to Nanny. Sometimes, when 
bidding the little girl good bye before she went to 
school, it seemed as if she could not let her go, and 
again, when Nanny returned, Mrs. Tavish’s face lit 
up in a way that made the child wonder. 

Nanny felt as if she herself had grown much older 
from that afternoon, and she had a constant, haunt- 
ing fear that her mother was going to die. Some- 
times, she forgot those feelings in school, but 
it was only to have them the more when she got 
home. She had no heart to write her little rhymes 
or tales, and the portfolio on the old chair in the 
corner was never touched only when it was dusted. 

She studied but it was with little ambition, and 
her only thought at home seemed to be to help her 
mother. She watched even when her eyes seemed 
to be on her book, for opportunities to save her 
mother an extra motion ; did the iron holder fall, 
Nanny picked it up before Mrs. Tavish had time 
to miss it ; was Mrs. Tavish about to raise the 
plaits of a freshly ironed shirt, Nanny knowing 
a knife would be needed for that purpose, brought 
it from the closet before her mother could turn to 
go for it herself. Did Mrs. Tavish seem more tired 
than usual, Nanny behind her back,quielly making a 
cup of tea, and as quietly placed it on ihe table, and 
thus with everything it was possible for her lit- 
tle hands to do. At such times not a word passed 
between the rnotlier and the child, nothing save a 
smile, but a smile that was far more than words. 

And from that afternoon, the party and the In- 
goldsbys, were never mentioned. Nanny could not 
think of them without thinking of the dreadful day 
when she had found her mother so changed, so she 
QOnld not bear to think of them at all. And Mrs. 


A GEl VA LEO US DEED , AND WHA T GAME 0 F IT. 375 


Tavish seemed to have no wish to speak of them. 
Nor did Lizzie Morrell often say anything about 
them, and Mrs. Morrell, having talked so much of 
tliem on the day after tiie party was satisfied to let 
them rest till she should have another visit from Mr. 
Nevin, an event she confidently expected. Mrs. Mor- 
rell had gone back to Bartholomew, after her visit to 
Mrs. Tavish with an account of the poor widow wliicli 
gave that kind hearted man a good deal of troubled 
thought. 

Mrs. Morrell also was troubled. 

‘‘I don’t know, Bartholomew, ” she said, ‘‘but I 
I have my own misgivings that it’s heart disease, or 
something like it, poor dear Mrs. Tavish has. She 
was taken all at once just as 1 got to telling about 
Mr. Nevin, and how mistaken we all were in think- 
ing his name was Ingoldsby, and that he was the old 
man’s step-son. She got as white as a sheet of paper, 
and her lips were fairly blue, and she reeled so, I 
thought she’d fall. I had to run to hold hei’, and 
she couldn’t get her breath for ever so long. I was 
going to call one of the neighbors, but she held me. 

She told me she gets these turns once in a while but 
not so bad as that one was ; she said I needn’t be 
frightened it would pass away.” 

Mr. Morrell shook his head. 

“Such turns are always bad,” he said, “I don’t 
like them.” 

And when as the days wore on, Mrs. Morrell, who 
went regularly to see Mrs. Tavish always reported 
thnt Mrs. Tavish was no ways like herself, but pale 
and weak looking, Bartholomew used to shake his 
head, and say very gravely : 

“ That’s very bad, Maria. ’^’ 

Lizzie generally heard Mrs. Morrell’s report, and 
her uncle's J’emark, but she herself saw whenever she 
wenr to Nanny’s home, the change in Nanny’s 
mother, and more than all she felt that change from 
Nanny’s own manner. Everybody was noticing the 


376 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 


child lately, even Miss Robson’s stern heart seeming 
to be touched by the sadness in the little girl’s face. It 
was such an utterly nnchildish sadness, and there 
was so strange a silence and gentleness of manner 
with it. She never spoke only when spoken to, and 
then she always answered with a tone and a smile 
that seemed to go to one’s heart. Even Helen Blun 
found herself catching some of the general pity for 
Nanny. 

All the girls in the class had found out, somehow, 
that Nanny was so sad because her mother was ill ; 
but no one ever asked her how her mother was, 
knowing that Nanny could not bear it, for when 
this had been done, Nanny’s eyes had filled with 
tears, and her mouth had trembled so she could not 
speak. 

Even Lizzie never asked how Mrs. Lavish was ; in- 
deed, she hardly talked much at all to Nanny now, 
but instead, at recess, she would put her arms round 
Nanny’s waist, and the two would walk nj) and down 
the play -ground, Lizzie often pressing Nanny to her 
b}^ way of showing her deep sympathy. 

To have her mother die wasthe one dreadof Nanny’s 
life ever since she could remember anything. She 
often thought of a time when they lived in the West 
and one of her little neighbors lost her mother — 
what a terrible feeling of srief and loneliness came to 
herself as she saw the coffin borne out, and the moth- 
erless little girl in her mourning dress walking after 
it, lest she should ever lose her mother. And now it 
seemed to her as if that terrible event was going to 
happen. 

Mrs. Lavish managed to do her work, but even 
Nanny did not know with what difficulty. Nanny 
did not dream how often when she herself was fast 
asleep, her mother lay wide awake beside her trying 
to think how long it would be before her strength 
would give way entirely, and repressing her sighs 
lest Nanny should hear them. 


A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OB' IT. 377 

Even the neighbors who used to think Mrs. Tavish 
was proud because she kept so much to herself, were 
full of pity, and when they saw her in the yard 
hardly able to carry the basket of clothes to the lines, 
they insisted on helping her. The old couple in the 
basement felt great sympathy for Nanny — she who 
used to be so delighted to borrow Mr. Alcock’s books 
of fairy tales, now for nearly a month, had not tak- 
en one : when he would have given them to her she 
shook her head in a sad little way, and said: 

“I can’t read them now.” 

She would not let herself read them lest while do- 
ing so, she might miss an opportunity of doing some- 
thing for her mother. Sometimes, she said to her- 
self : 

“ If only I had a father, or a brother, or sister, 
but no one, only mamma, and God is going to take 
her.” 

It was hard not to murmur, and often in the pray- 
ers which she said when her mother was not listening, 
she uttered in the grief of her heart: 

“Don’t be so cruel, God. for you will be cruel if 
you take my mother.” 

But the very next minute she took it all back. 

“ Don’t be angry with me God for saying that ; I 
know you don’t mean to be cruel, but 1 can’t live 
without her, oh, I can’t.” and then she would hide 
her face somewhere so that her mother would not 
see, nor hear her. 


378 ^ CHIVALUO US DEED, A]\I) WHAT CAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Mr. Morrell’s bealtli kept on getting so much 
better, rluit by the middle of November, and just as 
the Indian Summer had begun, he thonglit he might 
venture to the street. Mrs. Morrell much delighted, 
went with him. 

How good it felt to be out, and he seemed to grow 
stronger with every breath of the mild air. He leaned 
upon his wife’s arm for a block, or so, then he found 
to his joyful surprise that he could get on very well 
without her support. 

“ I tell you what is is, Maria,” he said, stopping 
all at once, ‘‘ I feel so uncommon well and strong 
that I’d like to give Lizzie a surprise. She doesn’t 
know a thing about my being out, and if you’ll lead 
me as far as the school. I’ll wait for her. It’s nigh 
about three o’clock now,” taking out a large, old- 
fashioned silver watch, ‘‘it won’t be necessary to 
keep you, Maria, if you’ve other errands to go on, for 
Lizzie’ 11 take me home all right, and won’t it amaze 
Lizzie to find Dad waiting for her.” 

“Indeed it will,” said Mrs. Morrell, as much 
pleased with the idea as her husband was, “but I’m 
most afraid to leave you, Bartholomew ; I was go- 
ing to see Mrs. Tavish, but maybe I’d better wait a 
bit with you.” 

“ There won’t be no need of it, Maria ; only leave 
me at the school, and then you go ahead.” 

She went with him to the school yard, and as it 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 379 


was very nearly three o’clock, the janitor had un- 
locked the gate of the yard and opened it very wide. 
There, when Mr. Morrell had propped himself 
against the fence, saying that he was quite comforta- 
ble, his wife left him. He made a striking figure 
with his large frame, and strong, rugged, kindly face. 
Not a child nor a dog had ever shrunk from that 
face. Just now thinking of the surprise he was go- 
ing to give his niece, he was smiling— a smile that 
every feature took part in, and that made the little 
primary tots who always came out before the 
scholars of the grammar department, smile at him 
as if every one of them knew him. 

‘‘Bless their little hearts,” he said to himself, “ it 
does me good just to look at them.” 

At length the classes from the grammar depart- 
ment began to come out ; the lowest grade first, and 
every girl looked and wondered at the stranger. 
But, like the primary scholars, his face seemed to 
win them, and though they did not smile at him so 
confidently, every one gave him a pleasant look. 
Lizzie’s class came down witli Lizzie herself among 
the first, and she waited at the foot of the stairs for 
Nanny. Then, tliey came througli the yard together, 
so busy with each other that they did not see Mr. 
Morrell till they could almost touch him. Lizzie 
jumped and gave a scream of delight. 

“Dad, dad ! is it really you f ’ she cried, springing 
to his neck and kissing him, never minding that al- 
most every eye in the yard was on her, and that 
Helen Blun was directly behind, wondering if this 
were Lizzie’s uncle, the odd looking man she once 
had seen in a red flannel bag. 

“Yes, it’s Dad, and no mistake,” Mr. Morrell 
said, giving lier a kiss and looking such a picture of 
good nature and delight that every child in the yard 
felt drawn to him. He caught sight of Nanny, and 
her little pale, sad face went to his heart. 

“Nanny,” he said, holding out his hand to her, 


380 ^ Glli VALRO US DEED, A l^D WHA T GAME OF 12 . 

‘‘dear little Nanny that I haven’t seen for so long.” 

Her heart seemed to jump at the sound of his voice, 
and when she felt his hand close affectionately on 
her own, and met his eyes turned upon her with such 
a look as she thought her own father — were he liv- 
ing — might have given her, she felt that she could 
have thrown herself on Mr. Morrell’s breast and have 
told him all the fear and the grief which she could 
not tell even to Lizzie. 

They passed out of the yard, Lizzie on one side of 
him, Nanny on the other, Lizzie asking many ques- 
tions as to how he had got down stairs, how long it 
took him to get to the school, would he soon be able 
to walk without the cane, and other questions of like 
import, forgetting everything but the wonderful joy 
of having him on the street again. Nanny said noth- 
ing only when Mr. Morrell spoke to her, which he 
did as often as she could get a chance with Lizzie’s 
chatter. 

When they got to the corner Nanny with a smile 
turned to leave them, but Mr. Morrell caught her. 

“ There aint no need of your going home just yet, 
Nanny,” he said, “ for my wife left me to go to see 
your mother, and she’ll stay at your house a good 
hour, so you come with Lizzie and me for a little walk, 
and your mother will guess what keeps you, because 
Maria will tell her how she left me at the school.” 

Nanny hesitated ; she did not care to go home 
while Mrs. Morrell was there ; kind as Mrs. MoiTell 
was, and thankful as Nanny felt to her, there was 
something about her that to the sensitive child just 
at this time, seemed to be a check on the fond man- 
ner with which mother and child always met on Nan- 
ny’s return from school. 

‘‘Come,” said Mr. Morrell, still holding her, and 
smiling affectionately at her, “ we’ll just go far 
enough to have a little ice-cream. I guess Lizzie won’ t 
mind,” turning to his niece. 

“ Mind ! you dear old Dad ; you know I just think 


A CHIVALRO U8 DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. gBl 

it’s splendid, and with Nanny it’s more splendid 
still,’’ said Lizzie dancing over to Nanny. 

“Of course you’ll come, Nanny,” she went on, 
“ come for my sake, and your mother won’t mind so 
long as Mrs. Morrell’s there, and we shan’t be very 
long ; shall we Dad ?” 

“No, not so long but that Nanny ’ll get home 1 
guess, before Maria thinks of leaving,” he answered. 

So Nanny consented ; not because of the tempting 
offer of the ice-cream, for all the delicious things in 
the world could not keep her for a moment from her 
mother, but for Lizzie’s sake and to please dear, kind 
Mr. Morrell. 

They turned into one of the streets that led to the 
Bowery, Lizzie still chattering, and her uncle making 
the most of every opportunity to speak to Nanny, in 
order to make her forget her sad feelings a little. 

All at once Lizzie said : 

“There is Oleander Thimig.” 

Sure enough ; there he was actually crossing the 
street to them, and looking more awkward than ever 
under a clumsy load of coffin stools. His thick, stiff 
coarse hair was sticking out from under his cap like 
bristles, and his coat was too short in tlie sleeves, 
and too short in the skirts, while his pantaloons were 
much too long for him. 

He was the same odd looking boy Nanny had seen 
once before, and she remembered him at once, but she 
was too much surprised to speak. 

To Thimig it had seemed easy enough when he 
saw the party first, to cross to them, and say how 
glad he was to see Mr. Morrell out, but when he 
reached them, and saw Lizzie’s laughing eyes fixed 
on him, and recognized the little girl to whose house 
he had been sent so secretly with the gold piece, not 
a word could he utter. All that he could do after 
he had put down his load, and while he got red 
from his hair to his collar, was to grin, look in a 
sort of shamefaced way from one to the other of the 
little party, and rub his hands together. 


382 ^ GHIVALRO VS DEED, AND WE A T CAME OF IT, 

“How do you do, Thimig?” said Mr. Morrell. 

Thimig nodded to show that he was quite well, but 
he went on looking from one to the other as before. 

“We must be going,” said Mr. Morrell, seeing 
Thimig would not speak, and he began to move for- 
ward. 

That movement enabled Thimig to get back his 
voice, and he said in his stupid way : 

She don’t know, now? does she?” looking at 
Lizzie but winking at Nanny, to show , tliat “she” 
meant her. 

“Don’t know what?” asked Mr. Morrell in sur- 
prise ; he had forgotten everything about the money 
sent to Mrs. Tavish. Lizzie remembered it the mo- 
ment she saw Thimig, but she hoped that either 
Nanny would not recognize him, or if she did, that 
she would not be sharp enough todevine who had sent 
the money. Now, however, the stupid fellows ques- 
tions were sure to disclose everything, and fearing 
that, she pulled her uncle’s coat and said : 

“ Come on Dad ; he doesn’t know what he’s talk- 
ing about.” 

That was the worst thing Lizzie could have said ; 
stupid as Thimig was, he was not too stupid to feel 
hurt at being spoken of in that manner, and he felt 
it all the more coming from Lizzie’s lips. 

“ You don’t mean as I’m a ejeet ?” — he meant id- 
iot — “ Lizzie, do you ?” he asked piteously, and he 
looked so ludicrously woe-begone, that Mr. Morrell 
laughed aloud ; even Nanny smiled. 

But Lizzie was getting nervous; if they waited 
much longer there was no knowing what the lout 
might say, and she tugged again at her uncle’s coat, 
saying : 

“Come, Dad.” 

That made Thimig desperate. 

“ Z>o you mean as I’m a ejeet, Lizzie? a borned 
ejeet ?” he said in a more piteous tone of voice than 
before. 


A GHIVALRO IfS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF It. 383 


‘‘Come, come, Lizzie,” said Mr. Morrell, still quite 
forgetting all that caused his niece so much fear, 
and anxious in the kindness of his heart to relieve 
the poor creature’s distress, amusing though it 
was, “ say something to comfort this poor fellow.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Morrell,” said Thimig, and then 
in his anxiety to prove that he was not an “ ejeet,” 
he forgot altogether the secrecy to which Lizzie had 
bound him. 

“She might have knowed,” he went on, jerking 
his thumb toward Nanny, “and again, she mightn’t 
have knowed what it was you didn’t want her to 
know.” 

Lizzie gave a dig into her uncle’s side under his 
coat ; it made him wince, but at that very moment it 
flashed upon him about the flve dollar gold piece 
which had been entrusted to Thimig. 

0-o-oh !” said Mr. Morrell ; but it was too late. 
Nanny’s face showed that she knew all about it. 
Lizzie was very red from anger with Thimig, and 
fear lest Nanny’s feelings had been hurt. Then Mr. 
Morrell said, thinking it the better way to pass over 
what had happened as quickly as possible : 

“It’s all right, Thimig; you didn’t mean any 
harm, and Lizzie ’ll say it’s all right too. Come !” 
saying the last word to the little girls and all three 
started again to go on. But Thimig was not satis- 
fied ; he placed himself before Mr. Morrell, saying: 

“She don’t say as it’s all right— don’t say as 
I aint a ejeet.” 

“ You aint an ejeet, there !” said Lizzie, as the only 
means of getting away, but her eyes flashed on 
Thimig in a way that was not at all pleasant to him. 
But he made no further effort to keep them ; he only 
watched them till they were out of sight, when, tak- 
ing up his load again he said mournfully to him- 
self : 

“ There’s no knowing how to take a girl; ’specially 
a girl wot has flashin’ eyes like Lizzie Morrell.” 


^ GHIVALHO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 

Mr. Morrell talked to Nanny all the way to the 
ice-cream saloon, and Lizzie thinking that he did it 
so as to get Nanny’s mind away from what stupid 
Tliimig had said, was careful not to draw any of the 
conversation to herself. Nanny hardly knew how 
she felt ; she was very thankful to the Morrells, and 
yet she was a little bit hurt that the money had come 
from them. Then, she wanted to thank Mr. Morrell 
and Lizzie, but somehow she could not. 

She had little relish for the ice-cream though she 
began to eat it, as if she cared for it very much, but 
at the third mouthful her mother’s pale, tired face 
came before her as she so often saw it drooping over 
the ironing table, and the thought of how good the 
cool cream would taste to her, closed Nanny’s throat 
against another bit. 

‘‘I’m very much obliged — it’s very nice, but I 
can’t eat any more, thank you,” she said, her voice 
trembling in spite of her as she pushed her plate 
back. 

“ Why, what’s the matter ?” asked Mr. Morrell, so 
much astonished that he put down his own spoon, 
and pushed his plate back, “I thought you liked ice- 
cream, Nanny.” 

“Ido,” she said, her voice trembling still, “but 
I don’t care for it to-day.” 

Perhaps it was the childlike simplicity of Mr. Mor- 
rell himself that made him sometimes read so well 
the feelings in children’s hearts, for he knew in a 
moment what was going on in Nanny’s heart, and 
while Lizzie only looked, not knowing what to say, 
he said in his cheerful way : 

“Maybe your mother won’t want to eat her ice- 
cream when you tell her you didn’t take yours ; for 
I’m going to ask you to fake her some. She won’t 
mind when you tell her I sent it, will she ? and I’ll 
give the order now, so they’ll be putting it up.” 

The last words were an excuse to get away from 
the table for a moment ; for Nanny’s eyes had filled 


A CBI VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GA ME OF H. S8b 

with grateful tears, and Mr. Morrell’s tender heart 
could not bear the sight. 

When Nanny could get her voice, and when she 
had dashed away the tears, she said to Lizzie : 

“ How kind your uncle is.” 

Lizzie nodded, not trusting herself to speak for 
Nanny’s tears had made her own eyes fill, and when 
Mr. Morrell came back to the table he feigned not to 
see either of them, and he talked away merrily, and 
ate his cream as if he relished it very much. Nanny 
ate hers also, and when she was given the package, 
wrapped in a manner to keep the cream from melt- 
ing, she could only falter: 

“ Thank you.” 

But all the way home after she had parted with 
her friends her heart seemed to be bursting with 
gratitude to Mr. Morrell. 

“I love him,” she said to herself a dozen rimes. 

As she got near her own house she saw Mrs. Mor- 
rell going down the steps ; and Mrs. Morrell to 
Nanny’s great satisfaction without even looking 
towards the little girl, took an opposite direction. 

Mrs. Tavish was standing in the doorway. 

“ My darling, I came out to look for you,” she 
said, as Nanny bounded to her. 

“ You were not worried, mamma ; Mrs. Morrell 
told you, didn’t she, how Mr. Morrell went to the 
school ?” 

“Yes, dear ; and that kept me from being anxious ; 
but I was longing for you, Nanny.” 

They had reached the room by this time, and 
Nanny put her parcel down carefully on the table ; 
then she threw herself into her mother’s arms, and 
for a moment neither spoke. Then, Nanny delight- 
edly unwrapped the parcel, and brought a plate and 
spoon from the closet, saying : 

‘ ‘ And while you are eating it, mamma, I’ll tell you 
all about it.” 

“But two spoons dearest, I couldn’t take a 
mouthful unless you have some.” 


886 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


‘‘ I have had mine ; and now, if you don’t eat, I 
won’t tell you,” taking the spoon and beginning to 
feed her mother. That made Mrs. Tavish draw up 
her chair to the table, and begin to eat while Nanny 
sat down at her mother’s feet. 

So that is where the five dollar gold piece came 
from,” said Mrs. Tavish, forgetting to go on eating 
in her surprise, when Nanny had told all about the 
meeting with Thimig. 

“ What kind friends these Morrells have been.” 

“Yes, mamma ; but I love Mr. Morrell best of all,” 
and then Nanny told what had taken place in the 
ice-cream saloon. 

A lump came more than once into Mrs. Tavish’ s 
throat while she listened ; it made her long in fin- 
ishing the cream, and it made it difficult for her to 
speak without showing how near to crying she her- 
self had come ; very near it, indeed, when Nanny 
said : 

“ Mr. Morrell seemed to know just what the 
matter was, mamma, when I couldn’t eat any more ; 
it would have choked me when you didn’t have 
any.” 


A CmVALIiO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 387 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

\ 

Mrs. Morrell was very mucli worried about 
Mrs. Tavish ; so much so, that she began visiting 
her every day, in order to do much of Mrs. Tavish’ s 
work for her, and resist as she would, Mrs. Tavish 
could not prevent it. Mrs. Morrell only laughed at 
every protest the widow made, worked with all her 
might for three or four hours, and went away look- 
ing and acting as if she had been doing the most 
natural thing in the world, instead of a great and 
unusual act of kindness. 

Perhaps it was because the shadow of death 
seemed to be in that poor little home, that Mrs. 
Morrell had neither thought, nor wish to make much 
even to herself of what she did. The hours she gave 
to working for Mrs. Tavish, caused Mrs. Morrell 
to rise much earlier in the morning in order to attend 
to her own home duties, and it often kept her from 
the afternoon walk she took so much pleasure in. 
But she did not seem to mind, and her husband was 
only too happy to have her do anything for Mrs. 
Tavish. He even said, that Mrs. Tavish should see 
his doctor, but when Mrs. Morrell told that, Mrs. Tav- 
ish shook her head. 

Mine is a case,” she said, ‘‘ that no doctor’s medi- 
cine can help. Thank your good husband for me, but 
♦ tell him I do not need a doctor. Tell him also, dear 
Mrs. Morrell, that what you are doing for me every 
day is keeping me up, and that after a little, I shall 
be strong again.” 

Lizzie, of course, knew of her aunt’s kindness • her 


^88 ^ GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WIIA T CAME OF if. 


uncle had told her about it with pride and delight, 
and Nanny had tearfully talked about it. It made 
the little girl somewhat ashamed of her own feelings 
for Mrs. Morrell, but her proud, wilful spirit would 
hardly acknowledge that shame to itself. 

Mr. Morrell was able to go out every day now, 
and he meant when the spring came to go into busi- 
ness. Lizzie still took her lessons in drawing, mak- 
ing rapid progress, but seeing no more of Mr. Nevin. 
Mrs. Morrell was much disappointed that he had not 
called again, and she began to think he had lost his 
interest in Lizzie, but 'jvhen she said so to her hus- 
band, he replied : 

“ Maybe not, Maria y we’re only a fortnight gone 
in December, and he maybe taken up with business. 
Perhaps about Christmas we’ll hear something from 
him.” 

Occasionally, Mrs. Morrell spoke in the same 
strain to Mrs. Tavish, but she never got more than 
a sad smile in reply. 

It was the Sunday before Christmas and such an 
unusually mild and beautiful day, that Nanny felt 
cheered by it, and to her joyful surprise her mother 
seemed much better, not suffering from the palpita- 
tion and weakness that so greatly distressed her. 
She even ate with more relish, and there was actually 
a little color in her cheeks. 

Could it be that Gfod was going to grant her prayer, 
and restore her mother’s health? Going into the 
yard for a moment where the sunshine was so invit- 
ing, Nanny seemed to feel more like her old self than 
she had done since that dread October day on which 
the great change had come. She certainly looked 
more like her old self, and so old Mr. Alcock thought 
when he popped his head out of the basement to 
have a better look at her ; he said to his wife : 

“ Nanny’s mother is better ; I do not need to ask, 
for I can see it in the child’s face.” 

Her mother surely was much better, for when the 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 389 

afternoon came, Mrs. Tavish said she would like to 
take a walk. This desire to go out gave Nanny 
great hope, and she ran joyfully to help her mother 
put on her bonnet and shawl, and then she put on 
her own little sacque, and quilted satin hood, with 
its white ruche ; her mother had made both. 

The mildness of the day had brought most of the 
people of the house to the front steps, and men, 
women, and children were seated on them in various 
states of ease — some of the men smoking. At the 
sight of Nanny and her mother every one arose to 
to make way for them, and friendly hands were put 
forth to help them down the steps. Looks of pity 
were in every face, and low, kind voices told how 
glad everybody was at seeing Mrs. Tavish so much 
better. The widow’s heart swelled with gratitude to 
them, and she said to Nanny when they had passed 
out of hearing : 

‘‘ God bless the poor. It is only the poor who can 
feel for the poor.” 

‘‘^Wbere shall we go, mamma ?” asked Nanny 
whe*n they were a block beyond the Bowery. 

‘‘ I think I’d like a ride dear ; I don’t want to 
walk too much,” Mrs. Tavish answered. 

Tiieytook an up town omnibus getting out at one 
of the streets which now has a great many elegant 
houses, but at that time had only a few. The street 
however, was not where Mrs. Tavish meant to go, 
and she said they would walk down the avenue a 
short distance. Nanny, not thinking there was any- 
thing strange in such a walk, held her mother’s hand 
and went on. 

“Let us turn down here,” said Mrs. Tavish, when 
they came to another street, and then for the first 
time the child began to think that the ride and the 
walk meant something more than she had at first 
thought. 

“Mamma,” she said anxiously, “are we going any- 
where?” 


390 A CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


Mrs. Tavish did not answer, and Nanny frightened 
at her silence, looked up into her face. It was whiter 
than Nanny had ever seen it ; there was a small spot 
of red on each cheek, and her lips were drawn tightly 
together just as if she were trying to bear some great 
pain in silence. The child grew more and more fright- 
ened. 

“Mamma!” she said, stopping all at once, and 
bringing her mother to a sudden stop also, “What 
is the matter ? where are we ? where are we going 

Mrs. Tavish drew a long relieved breath ; then she 
smiled and said : 

“I was afraid one of the old pains was coming on, 
dear ; and I was trying to keep it back. Come, weTl 
walk a little further, and then we’ll go home.” 

They went on, Nanny feeling somewhat relieved, 
but she was not quite satisfied ; however, she would 
not trouble her mother with any more questions just 
then. They came to a large, elegant house in the 
middle of the block. The broad stone steps, the 
carving on the great door, the large windows with 
their curtains of yellow silk and heavy lace, the bread, 
deep area, big enough to hold another house, all 
brought to Nanny’s mind the description Lizzie had 
given of Mr. Nevin’s home, and just as she thought 
that, her mother sank upon one of the broad stone 
steps, lifting her face which was entirely white now, 
and saying wildly : 

‘ T can’ t do it; Oh, I thought I could, but I can not.” 

“Mamma, mamma ; what is it 

The child was almost frantic with grief and fright, 
and had it been a thoroughfare, a crowd would have 
been drawn in a moment. But there was no one 
passing and the house itself seemed to be as still as 
the grave. But, hark ! there was a sound ; a click at 
the basement gate, and in another moment Margaret 
Anthon came out on her way to church. Hearing 
the sound of distress she hurried round to the steps. 

“What is it ?” she said, her kind heart wrung by 


A CHIFALIiOCrSBB^BD, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 391 

the grief of the child ; then seeing how ill the woman 
looked, she went on : 

“ Come into the house and let me do something 
for you : you look very sick, my poor woman.” 

Mrs. Tavish gasping for breath, tried to say no ; 
but Margaret took her gently by the arm to help 
her. 

‘‘You must come in,” she said: “just into the base- 
ment for a little while ; there will be no one there to 
see you, for all the other servants are either out or 
in another part of the house.” 

Mrs. Tavish let herself be helped into the base- 
ment then, and when Margaret had placed her in one 
of the big comfortable leather chairs, she brought 
her some wine ; she also brought some milk for Nan- 
ny. 

“You look as if you needed it, poor little dear,” 
she said to the child who was almost as white as her 
mother. 

Mrs. Tavish thankfully drank the wine : it seemed 
to make her much better, and then she said to Nan- 
ny, “Take the milk darling,” and turning to Mar- 
garet, she added ; we thank you very much.” 

‘‘Don’t thank me,” said Margaret quickly, “for it’s 
all Mr. Nevin’s, but he’d give it to you himself if 
he was at home, and welcome. He couldn’t see any- 
one suffer and not try to help them.” 

The red spots began to come again on Mrs. Tav- 
ish’ s cheeks. Margaret went on : 

“ There never was a better man, nor a truer gen- 
tleman than Mr. Nevin.” 

“You said he wasn’t at home, is he far away ? ” 
faltered Mrs. Tavish. 

“Yes ; he went abroad six weeks ago to look after 
some property I believe ; but he’ s expected home 
next Friday.” 

The red spots on Mrs. Tavish’ s cheeks began to 
die away. 

Margaret urged her to take more of the wine. 


392 ^ GHIVALRO U8 DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 

‘‘It will give yoa strength to go home,’’ she said, 
“have you far to go ?” 

“We can take the omnibus,” answered Mrs. Tav- 
ish, evasively, and then, after a moment’s silence 
she added : 

“Has this gentleman you spoke of a family ?” 

“ He has a step-father, and a step-brother and 
a step-sister, they’re all living here with him, and 
with the exception of the sister they’re as different 
from him as the black night is from the bright day.” 

“I think I’m well enough to go now,” said Mrs. 
Tavish rising and drawing her shawl about her. but 
Miss Anthon begged her to wait a little, urging : 
‘‘ You don’t look well enough to go out yet : in- 
deed you don’t.” 

All this time Nanny had not said a word, and she 
sat so still that she seemed like a little statue ; but 
her eyes were fixed sadly on her mother. 

“I)oyou have those weak turns often?” asked 
Margaret kindly, as she pinned Mrs. Tavish’s shawl 
closer about her. 

“Not often so bad as this one was.” 

“ Well, I hope you’ll get home safe,” unwilling to 
let the poor woman go. “If you will let me. I’ll go 
home with you.” 

“No, no said Mrs. Tavish earnestly, and catch- 
ing Nanny’s hand she seemed most anxious to get 
away. Margaret went with them to the sidewalk, 
and stood looking after them while they were in 
sight ; then she turned back to the basement. It was 
too late to go to Church, and she had no desire to 
visit. She felt much more like sitting down and 
thinkingabout her recent guests, wondering why the 
woman had seemed so unwilling to tell anything 
about herself — she had told neither her name, nor 
where she lived, and somehow, Margaret had not 
been able to ask her. Added to that, the face of the 
child who was so strangely quiet and mournful, 
haunted her — the eyes seemed to look at her from 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 393 

the shadows of the room with a look that brought up 
Mr. Nevin’s face, not as it was now, but as he looked 
when she lived in the family before. 

The mother and child said nothing to each other 
till they got home — the mother because she felt too 
weak to talk, and the child because she was so full 
of sad, puzzling, frightening thoughts, she did not 
know what to say first. But when they were in their 
own room again with the door shut and Mrs. Tavish 
seated, Nanny burst out crying : 

‘‘ I can’t help it, mamma,” she said, ‘‘it seemed 
so dreadful to have you sick there, on the steps of 
their house, and then what you said about thinking 
you could do something.” 

Mrs. Tavish seemed to gasp for breath, before she 
spoke : 

“ I thought I could ask them to do something for 
you, Nanny, and that is why we went out to-day, 
but when I got to the house I found I couldn’t.” 

For me^ mamma’? what could they do for me?” 
looking through her tears at her mother. 

Perhaps, as Miss Ingoldsby once seemed to like 
you so much, she might be willing to do something 
for you if God should — ” 

She could say no more for Nanny was frantically 
crying : 

“ Don’ t mamma ! don’ t say that ; God won’ t take 
you. Let Mr. Morrell’s doctor come and see you, or 
let me go to the dispensary for one — maybe they can 
do something to make you live. Oh, mamma 1 you’re 
not going to die ! say you are not, or my heart will 
break.” 

It almost seemed so from the passion of grief into 
which the child had worked herself. She could not 
speak any more for sobbing, and her mother’s lap 
where she had hid her face was wet with her tears. 

“God give me strength,” murmured the mother, 
and then she said as firmly as she could : 

“ Nanny, you are making me suffer more,” 


394 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT, 


That was enough ; one more little quivering sob, 
and the child had stopped crying, but there was still 
a lump in her throat. She clasped her hands to- 
gether and looked up ready to listen quietl3^ 

‘‘I may get better,” Mrs. Tavish went on, ‘‘but I 
thought it well to try to do something for you lest 
I should not ; and I did not want to tell you, so as 
to spare you pain as long as possible ; but when I 
got to the house my courage failed. That is all, dear ; 
now we shall trust to Providence for some other 
way.” 

So the day that had begun with so much sunshine 
and hope ended in disappointment and sadness, and 
when Nanny found her mother could take no sup- 
per, it seemed as if her own little heart got as heavy 
as a stone. But, she tried not to show her feelings, 
choking back every sob, and often turning her face 
away so that no sign of her grief could be seen. She 
wondered how her mother would do the washing of 
the next week, even with Mrs. Morrell’ s help, for if 
she should be as weak on the next day as she was to- 
night, she could not even go for the clothes : and 
what should they do for money, but she would not 
ask. 

“ But I’m not going to school to-morrow,” she said 
to herself, “I shan’t leave her any more.” 

Mrs. Tavish silently watched Nanny as the little 
girl washed and put away the few supper dishes. 

Then, when the well worn green cover had taken 
the place of the white supper cloth, and the lamp 
had been placed on the centre of the table, its light 
not enough to take away half the shadows, Nanny 
drew a chair for her mother in front of the fire, and 
a stool for herself beside it. And there they sat 
for a full hour, the hand of one clasped in the 
hand of the other, the child’s head resting against her 
mother’s arm, but neither speaking a word. Nanny 
at length thought her mother must be sleeping, 
and she feared to move lest it should disturb her ; 


A GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 395 

but a sliglit movement on the part cf Mrs. Tavish 
caused the child to look up, and she saw that her 
mother’s eyes were wide open and fixed with a 
strange look upon herself. 

“ I thought you were asleep, mamma,” she said 
softly. 

“No; I was thinking of you, my comfort, my 
blessing.” 

In after years how those words came back to the 
child, always bringing with them the poor little room 
with its dying fire light, its dim lamp light, and its 
clustering shadows, but more than all, with the 
white face of the quiet figure in the chair. 


396 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WEA T CAME OF IT, 


CHAPTER XL. 

When Mrs. Morrell made her usual visit to Mrs. 
Tavisli the next morning, the tirst thing she said, 
was : 

“ We won’t go for any clothes, to-day, Mrs. Tav- 
ish ; just take the day’s rest, and to-morrow, maybe, 
we’ll do extra work.” 

Not that Mrs. Morrell believed Mrs. Tavish would 
be better able to work on the next day, but that she 
felt she must say something to cheer both mother 
and child, and to keep the mother from any at tempt 
to go out. 

To Nanny’s surprise her mother had not objected 
to her staying from school, and now to Mrs. Morrell’s 
speech, her mother replied : 

‘‘ Perhaps you are right, Mrs. Morrell : I am 
weaker even than I thought I was,” and she leaned 
back in her chair and closed her eyes in a tired way, 
while Mrs. Morrell brought out from a little basket 
that she carried, some deliciously broiled chicken, 
and a bowl of jelly. The chicken had been so well 
wrapped up it was hot yet, and it tempted the poor 
sick woman as nothing cooked in her presence would 
have done. She began to eat with such relish that 
Nanny in her gratitude kissed Mrs. Morrell and 
^aid : 

‘‘You are so good, Mrs. Morrell, I love you as if 
you were my aunt.” 

You poor lamb,” said Mrs, Morrell trying to 


A CEl VALRO US DEED, AND W HA T CAME 0 F IT. 397 

hide the tears that had rushed to her eyes, ‘hhere’s 
enough for you, too.” 

And there was enough, for the good hearted vis- 
itor never brought scanty supplies, and giving way to 
the entreaties of her mother, Nanny ate also. While 
they were eating Mrs. Morrell said : 

“ I have a little business to do, and so long as we 
won’ t get the clothes to-day. I’ll go and attend to it ; 
but, I’ll be back in an hour, or so.” 

Mrs. Morrell’s business was to call on her husband’s 
doctor and send him to see Mrs. Tavish ; there was 
no use in wasting time trying to get Mrs. Tavish’ s 
consent, and there was, Mrs. Morrell thought, urgent 
need for a doctor. 

When she told the doctor all that she knew of 
Mrs. Tavish’ s sickness, he said at once it was heart 
trouble, but he promised to tell his opinion after 
seeing the patient, alone to Mrs. Morrell — that lady 
would call to hear it in the evening. Then she hur- 
ried home to catch Bartholomew before he went out. 

‘‘Now, Maria, I’m proud of you,” said that good 
man, when he heard what she had done in the mat- 
ter of the doctor, “you showed judgment in just 
taking the case into your own hands, and you showed 
scriptural consideration in telling him to be careful 
what he said to tlie poor woman herself.” 

“But, Bartholomew, dear, if I’m any judge, Mrs. 
Tavish is not going to be well any more, and what is 
she going to do ? it will break that child’s heart to 
have her mother sent to a hospital, and it would 
break mine to see her go.” 

Mrs. Morrell began to cry. 

“Don’t, Maria ; don’t, dear!” said her husband, 
his own eyes looking wet, and then he asked : 

“ How much a week would keep them, Maria ?” 

“There’ll be the rent, and a bit of filing, and the 
week’s support, though for the matter of that last, 
we could spare them enough from our own table ; and 
I could dp the washing for her as I did before, only 


398 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WUAT GAME OF IT. 


I’d have to do it here, for she isn’t in any condition 
to have work like that done inker own room, and 
then if I do it here, it will keep me away from her, 
and God knows she needs some one beside that child 
with her, bad enough.” 

Mr. Morrell had begun to walk about the room 
thinking very deeply. He stopi3ed walking now, and 
putting his hand on his wife’s shoulder, he said : 

“ Maria, we’ll pay their expenses out of the little 
store that’s set by to begin the business with ; it 
aint nigh April yet, when the money’s to be used 
for the business, and if much of it goes to keep 
this poor widow and her little one, it’ll be for a good 
purpose.” 

‘‘ But supposing,” said his wife, ‘‘that she should 
be sick this way into April and past it, it would be 
a great loss to you, Bartholomew.” 

“ If she should be, the Lord will provide for us, 
Maria, but we can’t, in any case have the mother and 
her little one parted, leastwise till it gets beyond our 
power to prevent it. So, you go ahead, Maria, doing 
what your kind heart tells you to, for you are a 
good woman, bless you !” and he kissed her. 

Mrs. Morrell was crying more than before. 

“Oh, Bartholomew! I’m not half good enough 
for the like of you.” 

When she went back to the Tavishes she found 
that the doctor had been there. 

“ And you never said a word about going to send 
him,” said Mrs. Tavish smiling. “Ob, Mrs. Mor- 
rell, how can I ever be thankful enough for all 
that you’re doing.” 

“ Never mind about that,” said Mrs. Morrell, 
“but tell me what the doctor said to you.” 

“ He said I had been worrying about something.” 

“ And what she needed most was rest and food,” 
said Nanny, her face so much brighter than it had 
been, it cheered Mrs. Morrell to look at it. 

“And she is going to have both rest and food 


A cm VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 399 


dear,” said Mrs. Morrell, ‘‘now, don’t you ask a 
question, but take what the Loid sends you, and 
to-morrow I’ll tell the people you work for to get 
somebody else till you’re quite recovered.” 

“Oh, mamma !” said Nanny, hugging her mother 
in her delight ; but Mrs. Tavish insisted on knowing 
how Mrs. Morrell was going to do all that. 

“Well, then, if I must tell you,” said Mrs. Mor- 
rell, “ here it is ; but mind, it is none of my doing ; 
it is all Bartholomew’s.” 

And she told what her husband had said. 

Mrs. Tavish did not answer ; she only looked at 
Mrs. Morrell in a manner which made that kind- 
hearted woman say : 

“Don’t look at me like that, Mrs. Tavish, dear ; 
you’re not angry, are you ? it’s in the kindness of his 
heart Bartholomew’s doing it, like as if you was his 
own sister.” 

“ Angr}^,” said Mrs. Tavish' gently, “how could I 
be angry ? I am overcome by all this goodness.” 

She turned to Nanny who was standing beside her 
and drew her down to her. 

“ Can we ever murmur again at what God wills, 
my darling, when He sends us such friends : He has 
well kept His promise of being a husband to the 
widow, and a father to the fatherless, and should He 
take me, he will take good care of you, my precious.” 

Mrs. Morrell was so touched by the sight of the 
mother and child that she was obliged to turn her 
head aside, but Mrs. Tavish’ s words caused a new 
tlio light to come into her mind. 

In school that day Lizzie was impatient for the hour 
of dismissal so as to learn what had kept Nanny at 
home. Of course her mother must be worse, even 
Miss Hobson said that, when she found that the lit- 
tle girl was not present, and everybody in the class 
looked pityingly at Lizzie. 

What if* Nanny’s mother should be dying ? Lizzie 
thouglit, and her heart seemed to stop beating for a 


400 ^ GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAMS OF IT. 


moment, for she put the case to herself imagining 
her own feelings were it Dad who was in Mrs. Tav- 
ish’s place. When three o’clock came she bad 
worked herself up to such a state of sad expecta- 
tion that she was sure she should find Mrs. Tavish 
dead, or dying. She ran almost all the way, and 
when Nanny opened to her knock, Lizzie was so 
flushed and breathless, that Mrs. Morrell who had 
not yet gone home, exclaimed : 

“ Why, Lizzie child ! what is the matter 

Lizzie could only gasp :* 

“I was so afraid when Nanny wasn’t at school that, 
that—that her mother — ” she hesitated to say the 
rest. 

“I know what you mean,” said Nanny, putting 
her arms round Lizzie, “ but it isn’t so; and your 
aunt has been here all day doing so much for us that 
mamma is better. Don’t you think so 

Before Lizzie could answer, Mrs. Tavish held out 
her hand to her, saying with a smile. 

‘‘ I am better, thanks to your good, kind aunt, 
and also to your kind uncle, much better, Lizzie 
dear.” 

“Don’t make so much of what I do,” said Mrs. 
Morrell laughing. Then she turned to Lizzie. 

“When you go home tell your uncle I won’t be 
back till evening. I have an errand to do when I 
leave here.” 

“Well, I am going now,” said Lizzie seeing that 
she was not needed, and fearing Dad would want 
her. 

At the hall door where Nanny went with Lizzie, 
the latter said : 

“I thought to-day would never pass for I kept 
thinking of your being alone with your mother, at 
least part of the time. I didn’t know Mrs. Morrell 
would stay with you so long.’’ 

“ Why do you always call her Mrs. Morrell ?” 
asked Nauny wflo was so full of all that Mrs. Mof- 


A miVALRO U8 DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 401 


rell had done for her darling mother, she could not 
bear to hear Lizzie speak of her so coldly. 

“ If she were the wife of my uncle,” Nanny went 
on, ‘‘I’d call her aunt.” 

Lizzie stared, “I never called her aunt mall my 
life,” she said, and she isn’t my aunt.” 

“Well, I feel as if she were mine,” said Nanny, 
“Hove her tor what she’s done for my poor, sick 
mamma,” and then she began to cry, and the sight 
of her tears took away from Lizzie all desire to say 
anything more against calling Mrs. Morrell aunt. 
When Lizzie parted with Nanny she had a most un- 
comfortable feeling, one that she could not put 
away. 

“ But I can’t call her aunt,” she said to herself as 
she went home, “and have her make me ashamed 
every little while — I can’ t do it,” then, thinking how 
much Mrs. Morrell had improved in every way, she 
went on : 

“ I know she’s better than she used to be, a heap 
better, and that she’s good to me, but I can’t call her 
aunt. It wouldn’t be hard for Nanny Lavish to call 
her aunt, if Nanny was me, because Nanny’s so good 
anyhow. Oh, dear ! I call her aunt.” 

Then something within her seemed to say : 

“Ask Dad about it,” at which she stood still in a 
sort of dismay. 

“Ofcousre,” answering herself, “he’ll say yes; 
I won’t ask him ; yes, I will ; no, I won’t; I can’t 
call her aunt ! oh, dear ! I can’t ; 1 can’t.” 

Mrs. Morrell’s errand before going home was to 
call again on the doctor, and he told her that Mrs. 
Lavish’ s case was one of heart trouble, made 
greatly worse by some recent shock. He did not 
think she would get well, and he said there was great 
probability of her dying soon and suddenly. Noth- 
ing could be done tor her except to keep her quiet 
and give her nouiishment. And with all that ringing- 
in her ears Mrs. Morrell went home, glad to find Bar- 


402 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 

tliolomew alone ; Lizzie was in the kitchen getting 
supper. 

Bartholomew shook his head when his wife told 
him. 

“ Poor little Nanny,” he said, “ it will be hard on 
her.” 

“ Bartholomew,” said his wife, ‘‘could you stand 
it if we were to take Nanny when she loses her 
mother ? she and Lizzie are like sisters now.” 

"‘Adopt Nanny Tavish for our little one, you 
mean, Maria he said, speaking louder than usual 
in his surprise, and as Lizzie was just then at the 
party opened door, about to go into the room, she 
heard him. 

Lizzie had not ask Dad anything about calling his 
wife aunt, neither had she been able to put down 
the still small voice within her, and now to hear that 
Mrs. Morrell had proposed what of all things in the 
wide world Lizzie would have liked best, but what 
even she had not thought of naming to her uncle, 
seemed with one swift stroke to do away with all 
her unwillingness, all her dislike. Without wait- 
ing an instant she rushed to Mrs. Morrell, put her 
arms round her neck, and said ; 

“ Aunt Maria ! I love you now, as I never did be- 
fore. Aunt Maria ! Aunt Maria.” 

Perhaps never in her whole life had Mrs. Morrell 
been so happy. She did not speak but she pressed 
Lizzie to her; Bartholomew, his face beaming with 
delight, was saying to himself : 

“It’s come right as I thought it would. Human 
nature ’ll show its good as well as its bad, if we’ll 
only have patience with it.’’ 


A am VALliO UlS deed , ANJJ WHA T came 0 V IT. 403 


CHAPTER XLI. 

The very next morning Mrs. Morrell set out to 
tell the families Mrs. Tavish washed for, that she 
could do no more work. There were two beside the 
Bluns, and for those two she had made up her mind 
it would be enough to leave word at the door, but 
she tliought it would be well to see Mr. Blun liim- 
self at his store. Telling all that to her husband 
he said she should wear her black silk. 

‘•For/’ said he, “good clothes makes human nat- 
ure red^)ected ; and since Mr. Blun was so civil to 
you at the party, Maria, it’ll be proper for you to re- 
spect him and yourself by dressing in your best. So, 
you just put on your blnck silk.” 

“ That elegant dress, Bartholomew, why this aint 
no time to wear that.” 

“It aint none too elegant for you to wear any time, ‘ 
Maria, so you just put it on.’' 

And put it oil, she did, and she looked so well and 
so nicely dressed, that Lizzie who was going to school 
at the same time her aunt was going out, felt actually 
pleased that their way lay together almost to the 
school-yard gate. Some of her classmates met her, 
and they looked with surprise, as if they could 
hardly believe that the tastefully dressed woman 
with Lizzie was Helen Blun’s “feather-bed tied in the 
middle.” 

And Mr. Blun’s clerk, instead of saying as she 
heard him say when she called at the store before, 


404 ^ CBIVALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 


‘‘There’s a woman to see you, Mr. Blun,” said: 

“A lady to see you, Mr. Blun.” Mrs. Morrell said 
to herself : 

“Bartholomew was right about the clothes.” 

Mr. Blun came forward showing by his manner 
that he recognized Mrs. Morrell ; and Mrs. Morrell, 
feeling pleased at that, held out her hand, and said 
loud enough for most of the clerks to hear : 

‘‘How do you do, Mr. Blun? I hope you weren’t 
very tired after the party.” 

“ I am quite well, ” said Mr. Blun, taking her 
hand, but letting her do the shaking. Of course she 
must have come on business, and it would be against 
his discipline to waste any time in hand shaking, so 
he went on in his usual way. 

“As to feeling tired after that party, since it took 
place two months ago, I have had plenty of time to 
get rested. What do you want, Mrs. Morrell?” 

But Mrs. Morrell did not want to come to her real 
business with Mr. Blun just yet. She desired to 
show off a little to the clerks for she felt tlAt most 
of them were watching her. 

“How is Mrs. Blun ?”she said, “1 hope she didn’t 
mind what 1 said to her at the supper table that night ; 
I said to myself, that if she did, you were such a 
sensible, right minded gentleman j^ou would — ” 

“ Is this your business with me ?” interrupted Mr. 
Blun, sternly. 

His sternness only made Mrs. Morrell angry, “No; 
it’s not my business with you,” she said, but if you’ll 
have patience I’ll come to my business in a minute, 
after I’ve asked about our friends, the Ingoldsbys” 
— she was sure the clerks all knew what grand people 
the Ingoldsbys were-^“the dear old gentleman, Mr. 
Ingoldsby ; he had a crick in his knee that night ; 
indeed I was afraid,” 

She was interrupted by Mr. Blun saying in a very 
loud, stern voice : 

“ It is against my discipline, Madame, to listen 


A OmVALHOUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 405 

to such talk as this,” and turning quickly, he went 
to the back of the store. 

She looked at the clerk nearest to her and said 
scornfully : 

He’s no gentleman, and everytime 1 said he was, 
I was lying, the Lord forgive me.” 

The clerk smiled and Mrs. Morrell went out, put- 
ting her feet down as if they were hammers striking 
a big nail at every step. 

She was angry enough to give no notice at all of Mrs. 
Tavish’s sickness, but to let the Blun family have 
the trouble of finding out for themselves why their 
washerwoman came no more, but she thought of Miss 
Luxor who had been so civil to her at the party. 

“I’ll just go to the house and see if she’s there,” 
she said’ to herself, and to the house she went ; as 
she was so well dressed she rang the bell of the 
upper door. Jane answered the ring and she 
was surprised to find it was Mrs. Morrell ; but 
it was the same friendly Mrs. Morrell she used 
to let in at the basement door ; and Mrs. Morrell took 
Jane’s hand, and told her in a whisper why she was 
there. 

Jane showed her into the parlor and then went 
back tothehall to see if Mrs. Blun were in sight as a 
ring at the upper bell generally brought that lady in 
to the hall on the floor above, so as to find out who 
the visitor was as soon as possible. Just now, how- 
ever, there was neither sight nor sound of her, and 
Jane going back to the parlor closed the door so as 
to listen to a fuller account of the object of Mrs. Mor- 
rell’s present visit 

“ Well,” she said, when she heard all, “you could 
n’t see a better one than Miss Luxor ; she’s the cheer- 
iest, kindest hearted body I ever met. The children 
are so improved in their dispositions, all but Miss 
Helen, since Miss Luxor came, that you wouldn’t 
know them. And over Mr. Blun himself she seems 
to have a sort of power that his wife hasn’t— many 


406 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAl CAME OF IT. 

a time I’ve noticed that Miss Luxor kept peace be- 
tween them. And she’ll be sorry for that poor Mrs. 
Tavish ; I’ll go up now and tell her a lady wants to 
see her.” 

Do,” said Mrs. Morrell, putting herself in what 
she thought was a true lady-like position in the easy 
chair, and looking with great satisfaction at her am- 
pie silken skirts. 

Miss Luxor wondered who the lady could be, for 
with the prudence and tlie pride of spirited poverty 
she had given up all acquaintances when she became 
a nurse in the family of her nephew. 

“ It is strange she did not send her card,” she 
said. 

“No ma’am,” said Jane with wonderful gravity 
considering her thoughts of what Mrs. Morrell might 
say if she were asked for her card. 

Miss Luxor went down immediately, tripping so 
lightly and quickly that Jane stepped aside to let 
her go first, and just as she went into the parlor, Mrs. 
Blun thrust her head over the baluster. 

“Is there anybody in the parlor, Jane?” she 
asked. 

“ Yes’m, a lady to see Miss Luxor, and Miss Lux- 
or’s just gone in to see her.” 

“ Humph !” said Mrs. Blun astonished, and mak- 
ing up her mind at once to see who the lady was. 
As her room was in the front of the house she had 
nothing to do, but place herself at one of the win- 
dows and watch till the lady went out. 

Mrs. Morrell, finding in Miss Luxor the same kind, 
gentle person she had met at the party, told all about 
Mrs. Tavish’ s sickness, and her own call some weeks 
before on Mrs. Blun. Miss Luxor’s kind, sym- 
pathetic manner led Mrs. Morrell to tell even more, 
and by the time she rose to go, Aunt Rebecca knew 
all about Mrs. Morrell’s own family, and as much 
about Mrs. Tavish and Nanny, as Mrs. Morrell knew 
herself. 


A cm VALRO ns DEED, Al^D WHAT GAME OF IT. 407 


Miss Luxor was very much interested, and though 
she did not say so, she had made up her mind that 
her nephew should be interested also. 

Mrs. Blun not satisfied with watching from the 
window, went often to the hall to catch some sound 
of the visitors’s voice, but the parlor door was shut 
and she could hear nothing. At length, however, 
her curiosity was satisfied, but when she saw that 
the mysterious visitor was none other than the hated 
and the feared Mrs. Morrell, she could hardly con- 
tain her anger against Miss Luxor. 

“I suppose Rebecca struck up an acquaintance 
with her at the party,” she said to herself, “but 
what business had she to make such an acquaintance, 
and to dare to invite her here.” 

But for all that angry burst to herself, she had not 
the courage to say a word to Rebecca, and Rebecca 
wisely decided to keep her own counsel till she could 
have a private talk with Mr. Blun. 

The private talk caused Mr. Blun to say that his 
aunt and his wife should go to see Mrs. Tavish, tak- 
ing with them some money from him. 

But Mrs. Blun, when informed of her husband’s 
wish, said : 

“ What ? ask me to go to a place where he so dis- 
graced me — no, indeed ! as he himself went to see 
Sirs. Tavish, before, he can do it this time.” 

Aunt Rebecca turned to Helen who was present. 

“Helen, perhaps, would like to go then. Nanny 
Tavish is her classmate, and it would be kind to go 
to see her now in her trouble.” 

But Helen followed her mother’s example when- 
ever she could, and as her father was not present on 
this occasion to make her afraid, she said with a toss 
of her head : 

“ No ; I thank you. If she is in my class she’s 
only a washerwoman’s daughter, and I don’t wish to 
visit her house.” 

“Helen !” said Miss Luxor in pained dismay, but 


408 ^ CmVALRO US DEED, AND WUAT CAME OP IT. 

Helen’s mother instead of finding fault with the little 
girl for having spoken so, called her to go with her 
to another room, so that they might both get away 
from Miss Luxor. 

That very afternoon saw Aunt Rebecca in Mrs. 
Tavish’s home. She met there Mrs. Morrell, and af- 
ter the visit both Nanny and her mother felt that 
Mrs. Morrell’s praise of the little woman was not a 
bit too much. 

So many unexpected kindnesses came to Mrs. Lav- 
ish, now, that she began to think she might put off 
something which she had thought of doing speedily ; 
to doubt whether it needed to be done at all. But 
this doubt and hesitation made her health worse, and 
Mr. Morrell’s doctor who made daily visits after his 
first call, saw there was something on the mind of 
his patient, and when he said so to her, she did not 
deny it. 

Mrs. Morrell, at the first chance she could of speak- 
ing to Mrs. Lavish without letting Nanny hear, ac- 
quainted her with the plan of Mr. Morrell and herself 
to adopt Nanny should the latter become an orphan. 

“So, you can make your mind easy, Mrs. Lavish 
dear, about the child’s future. We can’t give her 
riches, nor a grand life, but Bartholomew says she 
shall go to school till she gets all the education a pub- 
lic school can give her, and then if he is spared he’ll 
try to make her a teacher, or something like that. She 
will have a comfortable home with us, and Lizzie and 
she will just be like real sisters : and I promise you, 
Mrs. Lavish, we shall treat Nanny as if she were our 
own child.” 

Mrs. Lavish did not reply ; she only leaned back 
in her chair and closed her eyes. 

“ Have I made you feel bad ?” asked Mrs. Morrell. 

“ I wouldn’t have told you, but I thought it would 
ease your mind in case anything happened, and I 
see you so often following Nanny with your eyes 
just as if you were thinking about all that.” 

Mrs. Lavish said without opening her eyes. 


A Citl VALRO vs 1) EED, A ND WHA T GAME OF I T. 409 

“ No, you haven’t made me feel bad, but you have 
made me feel so grateful to you, and your dear, kind, 
good husband, that I have no words to express it.” 

“ There’s no need for you to say a bit about that,” 
said Mrs. Morrell quickly, “won’t it be a blessed 
thing for us, if the Lord should call you, to have an 
angel like Nanny in our home ?” 

On the third day of Nanny’s absence from school, 
Lizzie brought her books to Miss Robson, with the 
message that as tlie time of Nanny’s return was un- 
certain, it seemed better to give in her books. And 
at the noon recess on that day when the teachers wei e 
together as usual. Miss Robson told how she had 
discharged Nanny Tavish. Miss Olden, who was no 
nearer to being forgiven by Miss Robson than on the 
day of her offence, at the mention of Nanny’s name 
stopped talking to hear further. 

“ Her mother is very sick, I believe,” Miss Robson 
went on, “and as she is a widow with only this one 
child it is necessary to keep her home.” 

“Are they very poor ?” asked one pitying young 
teacher. 

“Well, I guess they can’t be very rich,” said 
Miss Robson, “when Mrs. Tavish does washing for 
a living.” 

“A washerwoman ?” said another teacher, “one 
would never think so from looking at Nanny ; she 
was always so neatly dressed — to be sure her clothes 
were dreadfully plain, but they were always so clean. 
There was one thing, her mother knew how to take 
care of her.” 

“Yes indeed,” said Miss Olden, not able to restrain 
her praise of the child, “and all the time that Nan- 
ny was in my class she was one of the brightest, gen- 
tlest, sweetest little girls I ever had ; and so sensi- 
tive — she used to color at the least thing : and she 
was so timid at first about asking for explanations, 
that I had to encourage her all I could ; but she got 


no A GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


at last to ask questions vvitliout any hesitation, and 
she never asked one that was not intelligent.” 

Miss Robson was glaring at the speaker, and she 
could hardly wait for the last sentence to be finished, 
before she said sharply : 

“I have found Nanny Tavish to be a very for- 
ward child, and so far from being timid about asking 
questions, or being able to ask intelligent ones, I 
have found her just the other way. I had to put her 
down the very first day she was in the class, and I 
have had to keep her down ever since. For my part 
I am very glad she has left.” 

Absolute silence followed that speech, and Miss 
Olden felt as if she had received a half dozen smart 
slaps in the face. If she had received them she 
could not have colored more, for every feature was 
as red as the crimson watch ribbon on Miss Robson’s 
breast. 

Then the teacher whose pity had led her to 
speak before, said again, thinking to make better 
feeling : 

“Well, now that the poor little creature is in troub- 
le as she must be with a poor, sick, widowed mother, 
you will go to see her, won’t you. Miss Robson 

1 go to see her^^'' said Miss Robson, not looking 
at the speaker, but keeping up her glare at Miss 
Olden, “I have too much to do to waste m^^ time 
going to the home of forward children. Let those 
who encourage forwardness, and mistake boldness 
for intelligence, do so if they choose.” 

“Oh!” burst from more than one of the little 
circle, at that rude and pointed speech, and the man- 
ner of each while saying it was not at all compli- 
mentary to Miss Robson. But she looked as if she 
did not care. 

Miss Olden wa*s stung, and she wanted desperately 
to say something, but she did not know what, and 
the teacher who was nearest to her, put her arm 
about her and whispered : 


A CBIVALROUS DEED, AND WE AT GAME OF IT. 411 

“Don’t you mind, she ought to be ashamed of 
herself.” 

Just then the bell rang, the signal for a return to 
tlieir class rooms, and Miss Robson was the first to 
stand up, holding herself very erect, and saying as 
she walked. with slow dignity from the room. 

•‘I never let any one who brings a false charge 
against me, forget it.” 

“ I think she’s awful,” said the teacher who had 
spoken so feelingly before, when Miss Robson had 
gone ; “ even if she thinks Miss Olden did say some- 
thing dreadful to her about the examination, she 
might forgive and forget it by this time.” 

“ So I think,” said another. 

Stern faced Miss Tibbetty put her head in at the 
door. 

“ Young ladies ; this delay is unpardonable. 
The classes are filing into their rooms and not a 
teacher to receive them.” 

They scampered then like so many children, but 
not without the satisfaction of a few side remarks 
about the cat-like qualities of Miss Tibbetty. 

That afternoon. Miss Olden went to a florist’s, 
purchased an exquisite bunch of flowers, and with 
it went to see Mrs. Tavish. 

Mother and child happened to be alone, and Nan- 
ny’s face flushed, and her eyes seemed to grow larger 
when she saw the teacher. 

“Miss Olden !” she exclaimed, and then she seemed 
to become very much abashed, for Nanny in her 
simplicity held the now obsolete idea that all teach- 
ers were very superior beings. But Miss Olden went 
forward with so simple, pleasant and kindly an air, 
giving her flowers to Mrs. Tavish, that Nanny felt 
quite at ease again. It was a very pleasant visit, 
showing to Nanny so much that was kind and sweet 
in the young teacher, the child was quite drawn to 
her, and Mrs. Tavish could not help saying : 

“ Nanny seemed to get along in your class. Miss 


412 ^ CHIVALR 0 US DEED, Ani) V^UA T GAME OE If. 


Olden, much better than in the one she was promoted 
to. Her last teacher somehow always put her down, 
and it used to discourage Nanny very much ; but 
you, she used to tell me, were very kind in answer- 
ing her questions and explaining things to her. In 
her last class the teacher seemed to want more that 
the children should sit up straight, and keep their 
eyes the one way, than that they should learn much. 
So, Nanny was happier in your class.’’ 

Miss Olden stooped and kissed Mrs. Tavish ; the 
kiss was for the comfort the sick woman had given 
her, — not comfort at hearing that she was thought 
more of than Miss Hobson, so much as comfort from 
learning that though she could not keep the order 
Miss Hobson did, the children learned in her class, 
and were happy there. Why then should she grieve 
because it was not given to her to command by a 
look of her eye and to keep ramrod discipline. 

And with the comfort and encouragement so un- 
consciously given by the sick, woman, there went 
away from Miss Olden a good deal of the bitternevSS 
and soreness Miss Hobson had made her feel. When 
she took her leave it was with the promise of com- 
ing soon again. 


A CmVALBO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT, 413 


CHAPTER XLII. 

On Friday of that same week when the doctor 
went to see Mrs. Tavish he asked Nanny and Mrs. 
Morrell to leave them alone for a few minutes, and 
when the two had stepped into the hall he drew his 
chair close to the sick woman, and said very kindly : 

My dear woman, you cannot get any better till 
you relieve your mind of its load ; it is helping to 
kill you.” 

She nodded and smiled. He drew back a little 
and watched her, somewhat puzzled what to say 
next ; but she spoke : 

‘‘ In any case I have but a very little while to live. 
Is not that it ? don’t be afraid to tell me.” 

It was the doctor’s turn to nod, and Mrs. Tavish 
went on : 

“lam going to relieve my mind, but it may take 
time, a couple of days perhaps ; perhaps more.” 

‘‘ Better do it quickly,” he said. 

“Will my death be very sudden ?” she asked. 

The doctor wondered at the calm way she spoke, 
and he felt her pulse again to be sure that was as 
calm as she seemed. 

“Don’t fear for me, doctor,” she said, “all this 
week I’ve been schooling myself to meet the very 
worst, and I think I am prepared. ^ Now, tell me.” 

“ Well then, my dear woman, it is likely you will 
die very soon, and very suddenly.” 

He still held her wrist, but the pulse did not beat 
any faster. She asked again ; 


414 ^ GEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

“ Is there a chance, a bare chance of my living for 
sometime?” 

‘‘Yes ; as you say, a bare chance that you may 
live for a few weeks, growing weaker all the time ; 
but don’t trust to that.” 

“Thank you, doctor ; now, that I know, I can 
act.’ ’ 

He looked at her puzzled to understand her, but he 
said no more, and he went to the door and called 
Nanny and Mrs. Morrell back. That afternoon when 
Mrs. Morrell was putting on her bonnet to go home, 
intending to return in the evening, Mrs. Tavish said 
to her 

‘ ‘ Do you think your husband could come to see me 
to-day ? I would like to have a little talk with 
him.” 

“ To be sure he can,” said Mrs. Morrell, hardly 
surprised for she supposed the talk had reference to 
Nanny — of course the mother would want to speak 
of her child to the man who was going to adopt 
her. 

Mr. Morrell took Nanny in his arms and kissed 
her when he went in, and she, not knowing why he 
had come, but feeling uneasy because of it, clung to 
him for a moment ; his simple goodness and tender- 
ness seemed like a great support in the midst of so 
much grief, and fear and wonder. When he put her 
down he did so slowly, almost as if he knew the feel- 
ings in her little heart, and when he went to speak 
to her mother he still kept the child’s hand ; he only 
let it go when he seated himself beside Mrs. Tavish. 

“ How good of you to come so quickly,” she said. 

“There wasn’t anything to keep me,” he said, 
“and when I heard you wanted to see me, I had 
to come right away. Maria said she wouldn’t come 
till I got back, lest you might want to talk to me 
j)rivate like.’ ’ 

“How good that was of her,” said the sick woman, 
her face flushing a little, “ I do want to talk to you 


A CHIVALRO OS DEED, Am WHAT GAME OF IT. 415 

in private, Mr. Morrell,’’ then, seeing Nanny’s 
eyes fixed upon her with a questioning look, she 
hesitated : 

Don’t you want me to hear, mamma?” said 
Nanny, with a strange sinking of her little heart. 

Mrs. Tavish put out her hand— it was trembling 
very much— and drew the child to her, Mr. Morrell 
moving his chair so that the little one could get quite 
close to her mother. 

“ Will you mind, darling, if I say I do not want 
you to hear ? it is a little private business that per- 
haps Mr. Morrell who has been so kind, can help me 
with.” 

“ Ts it — is it mamma, about me when you are 
dead?” 

Nanny sobbed out the words breaking at the last 
into such a passion of tears that tender-hearted Mr. 
Morrell could not bear it ; he had to turn his head 
aside not to let his own feelings be seen, and to take 
out his handkerchief more than once. 

Mrs. Tavish waited till the child’s burst of grief 
had spent itself a little. Then she said with gentle 
firmness : 

“ Nanny, you would do anything in your power to 
spare me pain now, would you not ?” 

“ Yes, mamma looking at her mother and try- 
ing very hard to speak without crying. Mrs. Tavish 
went on : 

Will it make my death any nearer even if I 
should speak to Mr. Morrell about what might be 
done for you afterward ?” 

No,-” spoken with a sob which she could not 
keep back. 

‘‘Then, won’t you be satisfied without grieving 
about It, to have me speak privately to Mr. Morrell ? 
If it should seem well to tell you after, you shall be 
told, but in any case, believe that I have acted for 
the best. Now, my darling, 0:0 and stay with Mrs. 
Alcock for a little while. When it is time for you 


416 ^ CHIVALEO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

to come back, Mr. Morrell will strike on tbe floor 
with his cane. You will hear him.” 

And kissing Nanny she lay back on the cushion 
of her chair with closed eyes and panting breath. 

Nanny left the room, restraining her tears till she 
reached the porch that led to the yard ; there she 
covered her face with her apron and cried wildly, 
but without making a sound. The offer of the Mor- 
rells to adopt Nann}^ had never been told to her, 
for the reason that she could not bear to hear any- 
thing relating to her mother’s death ; nor did she 
now think that it was anything like that Mr. Mor- 
rell had come to talk about. Siie did think, however, 
that it had something to do with sending her some- 
where after her mother’s death, perhaps to an or- 
phan asylum, and that seemed like the last blow to 
her very last hope, for she had hoped in spite of all 
that her mother might get well ; but now, that 
strange, private talk seemed like the funeral bell al- 
ready ringing, and her grief grew greater. But in 
the midst of it she started, for her mother’s order to 
go to Mrs. Alcock flashed upon her. 

“ I am disobedient,” she said, starting up, ‘‘dis- 
obedient now, when she may die so soon,” and 
hardly waiting to dry her eyes she went down to the 
basement. The old couple made her welcome, and 
seeing the traces of her grief tried to cheer her, but 
without much effect ; though she cried no more, she 
had no desire to speak, and she sat very still, look- 
ing sadly before her. 

In the room Nanny had left, the dying woman, for, 
she was little more, was telling a strange taledoMr. 
Morrell. In all his life he had never heard anything 
like it. But he listened as calmly as though it were 
an every day story, and he only said when it was 
all told : 

“ I shall go to the house, now ; if he is there, and 
he is a man, he will come back with me.” 

He spoke with a strength and determination that 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF IT. 417 

in his simple honesty he was not aware of himself ; 
nor was he in the least excited — his movements were 
as slow and calm as though he were only going home. 
He struck with his cane on the floor for Nanny, and 
while she was coming he buttoned his heavy over- 
coat, and fastened the muffler about his neck. 

“ Good bye, my dear,” he said to Nanny, lifting 
her again in his arms and kissing her ; then looking 
at Mrs. Tavish who was leaning back on her pillow 
as if she were much exhausted, he said all at 
once : 

‘‘You are too weak, Mrs. Tavish, to be left alone ; 
I had better go home first, and send Maria here.” 

Mrs. Tavish lifted her head and answered in a 
stronger voice than she had used before : 

“No, no ; go there ; quickly as possible. Don’t 
stop a moment. If I should need anybody, Nanny 
can call the woman in the basement.” 

So Mr. Morrell went, and Nanny crept to her moth- 
er’s chair and knelt beside it, clasping the damp 
hand and pressing kisses upon it, but not daring to 
speak. For some time they remained thus, then Mrs. 
Tavish all at once opened her eyes and looked 
strangely about iier. 

“ Has he gone ?” she asked, lifting her head from 
the pillow but letting it fall back immediately. 

•‘ Yes, mamma,” said the little girl in a whisper, 
being too frightened to speak aloud, for she had 
never seen her mother look like that before. Her 
fright had also stopped her tears, and it seemed as 
if it would stop the very beating of her heart if it 
shoiild remain long. But Mrs. Tavish was quiet 
again, her eyes closed as before, and her white face 
looking whiter still in the shadows that came up as 
the afternoon wore on. Nanny shuddered as the 
shadows lengthened about herself, and she crept 
closer to her mother, whispering at length ; 

“ Mamma !” 

“ What 13 It, dailing?” 


418 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


The voice had its wonted tender tones, and the 
child felt less frightened. 

“ Shall I light the lamp ? it is getting dark.” 

“ Yes dear ; and then come back to me very close.” 

Nanny did so, but the light seemed to make stran- 
ger shadows in the corners of the room than had 
been there before. Once even, the child fancied there 
was a shadowy presence behind her mother’s cliair, 
and it required all her will to repress a scream. But 
she shut her eyes and bent her face to the clammy 
hand she was holding again with both of her own, 
trying at the same time to remember all that her 
mother used to tell her about the folly of believing 
in ghosts, and at length, she conquered herself 
enough to open her eyes and look again ; there was 
nothing but the shadow made by the lamplight. 
But, at that instant, Mrs. Tavish lifted her head 
once more, and this time seemingly with much 
greater strength, and looking wildly about her, she 
said, as if she were asking a question. 

‘‘ Not yet ? not yet ? Oh God ! how long !” 

Nanny sprang to her feet, her first and only 
thought being that her mother was raving and per- 
haps about to die immediately. 

“ Mamma !”she called, her voice shrill from agony. 
‘^You are worse, I’ll knock for Mrs. Alcock.” 

But she found herself held. The clammy hand had 
wound itself into her dress with a strength it did not 
have a week before, and Nanny was pulled to her 
knees again. 

‘‘Don’t call her ; don’t call any one.” The words 
were spoken with strange distinctness, and after a 
second, Mrs. Tavish said again with the same 
strength and distinctness : 

“Promise me you will call no one till he comes.’’ 

“I promise, mamma said the child, thinking her 
mother meant till Mr. Morrell came back. 

There was another few minntes of quiet during 
which it seemed to Nanny as if she could hear the 


A CHI VALRO UJS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 419 

beating of both of their hearts. The mournful mys- 
tery abouL her had entirely stopped her tears, but 
her grief was none the less. 

She appeared to herself to be no longer a little 
girl, but some one many years old, fighting against 
a sorrow that made the whole world a waste to her. 
Never having known what it was to be a single night 
away from her mother, how should she bear the 
years of the future without her ? Who could, or 
would be as tender to her, as self sacrificing for her 
comfort, as that poor, fond, overworked mother I 
And then Nanny’s dry, burning ej^es looked from 
the white face to the pale hands of the sick woman, 
one she held, the other rested in full view on the 
quilt that partly covered the chair. 

Though the hands had lost some of their coarse, 
toil worn look, they still showed the hard work they 
had done, and Nanny kissed them both softly; then 
she turned her eyes again to her mother’s face. She 
wanted to stamp on her heart every line, every wrin- 
kle in those beloved features. The wrinkles had 
been worn by care and toil for her. 


} 


420 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, ADD WHAT GAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

Mr. Morrell had gone straighrway to the house 
of the Ingoldsbys ; and he rang the bell of the 
grand door and asked for Mr. Nevin. 

“Mr. Nevin,” repeated the servant, eyeing Mr. 
Morrell’s humble dress as if he wondered what busi- 
ness such a plainly dressed man could have with 
Mr. Nevin. 

“Yes, I want to see Mr. Nevin,” said Mr. Mor- 
rell, with a steady look at the man, and with such 
a tone of quiet firmness, that he was shown at once 
to a little reception room opening from one of the 
parlors. 

Margaret Anthon was in the parlor directing the 
work of one of the servants. She had not heard 
whom the stranger had asked for, nor did she show 
any curiosity when he went into the reception room 
and took a seat near the doer just where she could 
see him. 

But the man who had admitted Mr. Morrell, when 
he saw Margaret, said : 

Come this way,” turning to a room on the other 
side of the broad hall. 

That did not seem to please Margaret. 

The gentleman can stay here, Mat,” she said, 
“Pll close tliis door,” going to the door that separat- 
ed the apartments. But Mat said quickly : 

“No; it is better for him to wait in one of the 
rooms on the other side of the hall.” 

Margaret said no more, but went on with her 


A GHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 421 

work ; lier face however, had a look, that Mat 
would not have liked could he have seen it. 

In the room on the other side of the hall. Mat shut 
the door behind him, when he went in, and he asked 
in a soft, polite tone : 

“ What name shall I give f ’ 

‘‘ Morrell,” said the visitor. 

Mat knew his business too well to go to Mr. Nevin ; 
he went to old Mr. Ingoldsby. 

Morrell ! Morrell ! that is the name of that dis- 
gusting creature who was at the party,” said old 
Mr. Ingoldsby, ^‘it can’t be that she has the bold- 
ness to send her husband here. You did not tell 
him Mr. Nevin was at home, did you ?” 

‘‘ No sir ; I didn’t say whether Mr. Nevin was at 
home or not, I just got his name and brought it to 
you, as I do with every stranger who asks for Mr. 
Nevin.” 

“That is well. Mat ; I’ll see him then.” 

“I put him in a room on the left of the hall,” said 
the man again, “so that Margaret Anthon wouldn’t 
overhear his name, and tell it afterwards to Mr. 
Nevin in case she should find out who the man came 
to see : she was in the parlor on the right, when I 
let him in.” 

“You are a good one. Mat, and I shan’t forget 
you at the end of the month,” said Mr. Ingoldsby 
slapping his thigh with his hand. 

Mat went away well satisfied, and Mr. Ingoldsby 
went down to the visitor ; but he forgot to close 
the door of the reception room when he went in. 

Mr. Morrell rose, disappointed when he saw a 
little gray headed gentleman come in, instead of the 
man he expected to meet, and he said, his disappoint- 
ment showing even in his voice : 

“You are not Mr. Neviiij sir.” 

“ No, I am not,” said Mr. Ingoldsby, feeling 
strangely uneasy before this large, simple, homely, 
but firm looking man. “but I am Mr. Nevin’ s father, 


422 ^ CniVALRO us DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 


and it will do equally well to tell your business to 
me.” 

‘‘Oh, no,” said Mr, Morrell, with a resolute shake 
of his head, ‘‘what I have to say must be told to Mr. 
Nevin, not to his father.” 

“ But Mr. Nevin is not here,” said Mr. Ingoldsby, 
beginning to feel still more uneasy, “he went on a 
long journey and he hasn’t got back.” 

“Why didn’t the man tell me that?” said Mr. 
Morrell looking suspiciously at Mr. Ingoldsby. “I 
knew Mr. Nevin went on a journey six weeks ago, 
but he was to be back to-day.” 

Mr. Ingoldsby’ s red face got redder. How did 
this stranger know so much 

‘‘Sit down my man,” he said making up his mind 
to bribe him by pretending great friendliness, but 
Mr. Morrell did not sit dov/n. 

“If I mistake not,” Mr. Ingoldsb}’ went on, “you 
are the husband of Mrs. Morrell who was at a party 
in this house some weeks ago.” 

“Yes,” said Bartholomew shortly, and looking as 
if he were not at all impressed by the old gentle- 
man’s friendliness. 

“Well, now if it is a favor of any kind you want 
from my son, it is in my power just the same, to 
serve you.” 

Mr. Morrell, who had begun to move toward the 
partly opened door, turned and fixing his eyes on 
Mr. Ingoldsby with a steady look, said : 

“I want no favor from either of you; but my 
business is with Mr. Nevin. Since I cannot see him 
here, I must find some other way.” 

“What is it, Mr Morrell, that you want with 
me ?” 

It was Nevin himself in the very doorway and 
holding out his hand to Mr. Morrell. 

Margaret Anthon, with little effort on her part. 
had overheard enough of the conversation between 
the visitor and old Mr. Ingoldsby, to make her go 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 423 

with all speed to her master’s room where he was 
resting after his journey, and it took but a few min- 
utes for him to reach the scene. 

Then for the first time did Mr. Morrell seem to 
lose his composure. He clasped JNJr. Nevin’s hand, 
and said : 

‘‘Thank God!” in a tone that sent fresh dismay 
to the heart of Mr. Ingoldsby. At the sight of his 
step-son his color had deepened till it got purple, and 
his tongue seemed to grow thick in his mouth. 

Mr. Nevin turned to him. 

“ Father, I have heard enough to know that Mr. 
Morrell has private business with me. Leave us 
please.” 

The old gentleman went out of the room hardly 
knowing how he did so for the ringing in his ears 
and the blur before his sight. He was groping like 
a blind man in the hall when Mat met him. 

“Where are you going, sir? what is the mat- 
ter V ’ 

But the only answer was a jumble of : 

“Not a penny— all gone — no home — come at 
last.” 

“ He’s lost his mind,” said Mat frightened, and 
he rang for help. A half dozen servants came. It 
took three to carry the old gentleman to his room for 
he would not be led in any direction but a circular one 
that brought up just where he started. Mat went 
to tell Miss Ingoldsby, another servant rushed for a 
doctor, while the others held themselves in readi- 
ness to be sent anywhere. 

Within the reception-chamber Nevin, who had 
given but a glance at his step-father as the latter 
passed out, and who had shut the door tightly after 
him, — leaned forward and said kindly ; 

“ Well, Mr. Morrell, what is it ?” 

Mr. Morrell seemed to brace himself before he 
spoke ; but even then his voice trembled. 

“A woman who was Mary Denton eleven years 


424 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OP IT. 


ago, is dying at— Rivingtoii street. She has one child, 
a daughter, ten years old ; will you come with me 
now to see her ? Her time I think is very short.” 

.Nevin started, and his face got so white and drawn 
it made him look ten years older, but, without saying 
a word he caught Mr. Morrell’s hand and drew him 
from the room into the hall ; then he turned to the 
street door. When they reached it seeing that Nevin 
was going out bareheaded, Mr. Morrell reminded 
him of his hat. He turned mechanically to the stand 
and took one that hung there. 

‘‘ Your overcoat,” said Mr. Morrell again, ‘‘ it is 
cold.” 

‘‘Cold,” repeated Nevin, “the fever within me 
will keep me hot enough.” 

And thus they went, knowing nothing of the ex- 
citement they left behind them. 

“ We’ll get a carriage on the next street,” Nevin 
said, and he walked so rapidly it was difficult for Mr. 
Morrell to keep up with him. During the ride not 
a word was spoken, and it was too dark, — except on a 
chance flash of a street lamp — to see each other. At 
such times Mr. Morrell saw his companion’s face 
still with its white, drawn, old look. And Nevin 
seemed to have forgotten that he was not alone till the 
carriage stopped, when, without waiting for the driver 
to get down, he opened the door saying to Mr. Mor- 
rell : 

“ Is this the place ?” 

“ Yes,” was the answer. Then they both got out, 
Nevin telling the driver to wait, and Morrell led the 
way up the dirty half worn steps, and into the cold, 
dirty hall The dim light of the oil lamp set in a 
niche in the wall seemed to make things look dirtier 
and colder. When they got to the door of Mrs. Tav- 
ish’s room, Mr. Morrell whispered : 

“I’ll wait here, Mr. Nevin, in case you might need 
me.” 

Nevin started, ^nd then he stood still, almost ag 


A CmVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 425 


if something held him. All at once there was a cry 
from the room, a child’s shrill, wild, agonizing cry. 

“ Come in with me,” said Nevin in a hoarse voice, 
catching Mr. Morrell’s hand, and then he turned 
and opened the door without knocking. 

The figure in the chair was still with that awful 
stillness that makes one shudder, her head lying 
helpless in the arm of the frantic child. 

“ Mamma !” she cried, not even turning to see who 
had entered, speak to me once more.” 

‘‘My God ! she is dead !” said Mr. Morrell shak- 
ing like a leaf, and going to the chair ; but Nevin 
got there before him, and he knelt and clasped his 
arms round mother and child. 

“ Mary !” he called in such a voice that Mr. Mor- 
rell never could think of it without a shudder, “ I 
am not to blame ; say one word to me.” 

Whether it were^ that her spirit had not yet be- 
gun its mysterious journey, or that the supreme an- 
guish in his voice had power to call her back, no one 
could tell, but she opened her eyes, smiled at him, 
and whispered : 

“ I told Nanny. She knows you are her father.” 

That was all. The eyes closed again, the smile fad- 
ed away, and Nevin’ s arms held now not alone the 
corpse of his wife but the unconscious form of his 
child. The awful strain of the past two hours had 
ended at last, and with her mother’s outgoing spirit, 
her own went also into forgetfulness for a little 
while. 


426 ^ CmVALRO US DEED, AND WUA T GAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

Both Mrs. Morrell and Lizzie began to feel anx- 
ious about Bartholomew’s long stay with Mrs. Tav- 
ish, and when eight o’clock came without bringing 
him, Mrs. Morrell could bear it no longer. 

“I’ll go round there,” she said to Lizzie. “May- 
be something’s happened that he can’ t get away, and 
he has no one to send word to us.” 

So she went, meeting her husband midway on his 
return. 

“Oh, Maria! lam so glad,” he said, “ I only 
wish you had thought to come before. Mrs. Tavish 
is dead, and Nanny’s only just got out of a faint. 1 
had to go for the nearest doctor for her.” 

“ Dead !” said Mrs. Morrell, “ oh Bartholomew ;’ ’ 
beginning to cry tears of real friendship and sor- 
row. 

“But that is not all, Maria ; Mr. Nevin is there, 
and he was Mrs. Tavish’ s husband, and Nanny’s 
father. It was to tell me all that and to send me to 
Mr. Ingoldsby’s house for Mr. Nevin. that she 
wanted to see me this afternoon.” 

Mrs. Morrell fairly staggered with astonishment, 
crying in a tone of doubt : 

“ Bartholomew 1” 

“It’s all gospel truth, Maria, for Mr. Nevin’s 
there himself a taking on like a woman with 
grief — the way he cried over Nanny would have 
melted a stone. It’s a strange story but I haven’t 
time to tell it to you now, and don’t you ask any 


A GUI V A LRO US DEED, A ND WUA T GAME 0 F IT. 427 

questions when you get there, Maria, for 111 explain 
it all to you the first chance, but just do what you 
can for them. I’m going now to get Mr. Brush to 
attend to the remains just for the present, for Mr. 
Nevin’s going to have them embalmed and buried 
from his own house, and I told him I’d bring Lizzie 
back with me, maybe the sight of her would do 
Nanny good.” 

“All right, Bartholomew,” said his wife, and she 
hurried on hardly knowing whether she were in a 
dream, or not. But when she got to the house of 
death everything was real enough. 

The strange doctor was still there watching the 
sleep he had put the little patient into, and Mrs. Al- 
cock was there, sitting beside the dead Vv^oman till 
Mr. Morrell should send the undertaker. 

Nevin went from his dead wife to his daughter, 
hardly knowing there were others in the room, only 
when he said to the doctor : 

“ You are sure it will not hurt her to remove her 
to-night ? But I can’t let her stay here.” 

“It will not hurt her to remove her to-night,” the 
doctor replied, “ but she will need the greatest care 
afterward.” 

Nevin went again to his dead wife and stood look- 
ing down at her. Death had smoothed every 
wrinkle, and left the face much younger looking, 
while the tired, sad expression that used to give so 
much uneasiness to Nanny had quite gone, leaving 
in it’s place one of perfect rest and peace. Once 
more he was overcome by his grief, and he threw him 
self on his knees beside the remains, and sobbed 
as a child might have done. Kind hearted Mrs. 
Alock cried with him. 

“ Oh, Mary !” he said, “I had so much, and you 
were in want ; but they did it ; they did it.” 

When Mrs. Morrell entered he took her by both 
hands. 

“I know a little of what you have done for my 


428 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

wife and child,” he said, and then, as if his feelings 
would not Jet him say more, he turned away, while 
Mrs. Morrell went to take an affectionate look of her 
dead friend. 

Nanny began to speak as if she were dreaming : at 
hrst no one could make out what she said, but after 
a little her words became quite distinct. 

“ Yes, mamma ; I understand you. You said Mr. 
Morrell might come back with some one, and that 
would be my father. You wouldn’t tell me his name 
for fear he wouldn’t come, and if my father comes I 
am to love him — I’ll love him, mamma, because you 
want me to— but you’re dying mamma,” — beginning 
to speak wildly — “ your face is cold — you don’t see 
me— oh, mamma !” and the she screamed as she did 
when Nevin had stopped at the door before going 
in. 

Nevin covered his face with his hands, and he shook 
with the grief he was trying to restrain. The doc- 
tor put his hand kindly on his shoulder and said : 

‘‘Do not mind this so much ; it is only the reac- 
tion. I shall give her another opiate, and when she 
wakes 1 think she can be moved. It will be well^to 
get her away from here as soon as possible.” 

A sudden thought came to Nevin, and calling Mrs. 
Morrell aside, he said : 

“You have been to my house ; you know how 
large it is— can not you and your husband, and your 
niece come there to live for the present ? No member 
of my family shall disturb you, and I think it would 
help Nanny to have her friends with her. They 
will all be strangers to her in my house — even I, her 
father, am a stranger to her.” 

The tone of his last words brought fresh tears to 
Mrs. Morrell’s eyes. 

Nevin’ s proposal was accepted for Nanny’s sake, 
Bartholomew being won to it when he came back 
with Lizzie, and it was arranged that Lizzie should 
go with Nanny that very night. Mr. and Mrs, Mor- 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 429 

rell would follow when the body of Mrs. Tavisli 
went. 

But when Nanny came back to the knowledge of 
what was going on about her, not all the passionate 
tenderness of her newly found father could lessen 
her sense of loss ; and when she heard that she was 
to go away from the beloved corpse, she dropped on 
her knees beside it, and refused to leave it. 

“ But mamma is going to,” said Nevin. Besides, 
didn’t mamma tell you to love and obey me ?” 

She was on her feet at once. 

^ “I forgot she had told me that,” she said, “ yes 
ril go with you. Good bye, mamma, for a little 
while.” 

And pressing on the cold, still face one of the long 
tender kisses she used to give it in life, she turned 
without a word to her father’s arms again. 

They went in the hired carriage that still waited, 
Nanny resting on her father’s breast too tired and 
weak to speak, but feeling in spite of it all, in the 
tenderness of that embrace a great rest and comfort. 

Lizzie of course had heard from her uncle much 
more of the strange story than he had told to his 
wife, there being more opportunity to tell her, and 
she was so divided between astonishment that Mr. 
Nevin should be Nanny’s father, sorrow at the death 
of Nanny’s mother, and joy that her little friend 
should have such a father, that she had abundant 
thoughts to keep her silent. ^ 

Old Mr. Ingoldsby had a stroke of paralysis, the 
physician said, and if it did not kill him, it would 
make him an imbecile for the rest of his life. He 
did not know anybody about him, not even Cornelia, 
who hung over him in silent grief and alarm refus- 
ing to believe the worst till one or both of her broth- 
ers should come. No one knew what business had 
called Egbert out, further than one of the servants 
had seen him go away in a great hurry with a stran- 
ger. 


430 ^ CmVALROVS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OP IT. 

Edwin came in first, and he saw that the physi- 
cian’s opinion was probably correct, bat he imme- 
diately ordered a consultation of doctors, and Cor- 
nelia took a little hope from that. But why did not 
Egbert come ? she seemed to need him in this awful 
suspense, more than she had ever done in her life 
before. There was such a mystery surrounding hei 
father’s attack. Mat having told how he found him 
groping the hall. 

Egbert came at length, and his coming caused al 
most as much excitement as his father’s attack had 
done, the servants not knowing what to make of the 
fact that he carried a little girl tenderly in his arms, 
while another little girl walked beside him, and that 
he began to give perempror}^ orders before any one 
could tell him about Mr. Ingoldsby. 

One of the servants, however, stepped up to him, 
and told him in a whisper w^hat had happened. 

A shade passed over his face, and he called for Mar- 
garet Anthon. She came to him at once, being al- 
ready near, for she had heard the bustle made by his 
coming and she thought she might be wanted. 

He whispered to her : 

‘Hf my sister can leave her father tell her to come 
to my room.” 

Margaret was startled recognizing not alone Lizzie 
Morrell who smiled at her, but the little girl in Nev- 
in’s arms; her first thought was that through the 
Morrells perhaps the case had been brought to her 
master’s notice, and fie as usual had not been satis- 
fied with any half measure of help. But if that 
were so, where v^as the mother, the mysterious sick 
woman who had excited Margaret’ s pi ty the Sunday 
before ? Nor had Margaret now, any opportunity to 
show that she had ever seen Nanny, for the child too 
weak to bear the glare of the light and the bustle 
about her, kept her eyes closed and her face partly 
turned to her father’s breast. 

But Margaret showed none of her thoughts, and 


A OmVALHOUS DEED, AND WHAT CAME OE IT. 431 


even when she called Miss Tngoldsby from the 
room where her father lay, wa'tched by his son and 
three physicians, she whispered her message quietly. 

The message surprised and troubled Miss Iiigolds- 
by— it was unlike Egbert not to come to her at such 
a time as this, but without betraying any of her feel- 
ings she went at once to his room. He, himself, 
opened to her knock, but instead of inviting her in, 
he went out into the hall shutting the door behind 
him, and drawing her a little way from it. He 
looked so strangely that she was frightened. Was 
she to hear of another calamity % and she waited in 
a sort of horror stricken silence for him to speak ; her 
own tongue would not move. He put his arm about 
her and kissed her. 

‘‘I have just come from my dead wife, and I have 
brought my little daughter home. Come and see her. ” 

He turned to go back to the room, and she fol- 
lowed like one in a nightmare. Within, he led her 
to the bed. Lizzie Morrell sat beside it ; and on it 
Nanny was lying. She saw them coming and she sat 
up. 

“Nanny Tavish !” Miss Tngoldsby fairly screamed, 
and stopping short in her walk to the bed, 

‘‘ Is Nanny Tavish j^our child, Egbert?’’ and she 
turned wildly to her brother. 

“ My child, Cornelia, my very own,” he said, 
gently" urging her forward again, ‘‘and you must 
love her as you love me.” 

Cornelia needed not that bidding, nor did she need 
the smile of the little pale creature on the bed to 
make her fold the child to her as closely as Nevin 
himself had done. She strained Nanny to her and 
kissed her again and again. 

“I always felt there was something she said, 
“something about you, Nanny, that made me want 
Egbert to see you. But how is it? how has it hap- 
pened ? why was I never told before ? I don’t under- 
stand — ” turning to her brother, and then seeing 


432 ^ GHIVALR0V8 DEED, A^D WHAT GAME OF IT. 


Lizzie for the first time, ‘^and how is it this little 
girl is here, too V’ 

Nevin answered : 

“ There is a good deal to explain to you, Cornelia, 
but not now. Try and bear the mystery for a little, 
and help me to make up as far as I may, the wrong 
which has been done.” 

Then he told her quickly of his arrangements for 
the funeral, and his plan for the Morrells. 

“ The house is so large, thank Providence, they 
can all live here easily without ever seeing the mem- 
bers of our family. They can have their own suite 
of rooms, and their own servants. I have already 
given orders and the servants are preparing for 
them. My daughter and her little friend shall stay 
with me till we have had some refreshments ; then 
Margaret A^nthon will take charge of them for the 
present. She already knows Lizzie here, and for my 
sake, she will take tender care of my fragile little 
girl.” 

And he sat on the bed beside Nanny and put his 
arm about her. 

Cornelia burst into tears. 

“Oh, Egbert ! I ought to do my part in staying 
with your little one, but my father — ” she could 
say no more. 

Egbert put his other arm about her and drew her 
to him. 

“No, Cornelia ; your first duty is to your father. 
Go to him and stay with him, I shall go to him also, 
after a little. But Edwin, his own son is with him 
now, and my first duty at present, is here,” 5)ressing 
Nanny to him. 

The name of Edwin brought to the tearful girl 
many fears and anxieties. What would he say when 
he found that all his care to keep from Egbert a 
knowledge of Nanny Tavish was useless ; wliat 
would he do when he heard that she was in the 
house the acknowledged child of his half-brother ? 


A CBlVALtiOVSDBm, AND WR AT GAME OF If . 433 

Why had both he and his father kept from her, 
Cornelia, all knowledge of Egbert’s marriage ? Why 
had Egbert himself been so silent about it 1 Must 
she now on going back to her fatlier’s room tell Ed- 
win what had happened, and bear another distress- 
ing scene ? She looked appealingly at Egbert. 

‘‘ I cannot be the bearer of this news to Edwin.” 

“ I did not mean that you should be,” said Nevin, 
‘‘I shall tell him at the proper time. From some of 
the servants, probably, he will learn enough to make 
him curious, and should he say anything to you, tell 
him to come to me for information. Now, go, Cor- 
nelia, and I shall join you, after a little.” 

She kissed Nanny, and then seeing Lizzie’s big 
black eyes fixed wistfully upon her, she kissed her 
also. 

Nevin had sent fora doctor whom he knew, and 
he was waiting to hear his opinion about Nanny, be- 
fore giving her and her little friend to the care of 
Margaret. The little girls were to have one of the 
elegant guest chambers on the other side of the hall 
from his own room, while Margaret was to be within 
call in a room that adjoined the guest chamber. 

When the doctor arrived he said a long, sound 
sleep would do the little patient more good than 
anything else, and he prescribed a powder for this 
purpose. Margaret put Nanny to bed with Lizzie 
nestling beside her, and then she kissed them both, 
placed a little night-lamp and a tiny hand bell on a 
stand near Lizzie, so that she might ring if anything 
were wanted, and she went out. 

The shadows that the night lamp made caused 
Nanny to think of the shadows which had seemed 
to hang so strangely about her dying mother, and 
that had made her so much afraid. But the present 
shadows were not in the midst of poverty and want, 
but amid such comfort and elegance as Nanny had 
never seen before. The strangeness of it all seemed 
to make her little mind more active than it had ever 


434 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 

been : before this she had been too weak and too full 
of the death of her mother even to wonder much how 
Mr. Nevin had come to be her father ; why her 
mother had never told her, why he had never come 
to see them before, when he was so kind and loving 
now ? but, as she lay there waiting for the sleep the 
powder was to bring, the thoughts crowded upon 
her in a painful way. She seemed to live over again 
the meeting she had that evening with Miss In- 
goldsby, and as she remembered how the young 
lady called Mr. Nevin, Egbert, all the fancies she once 
had on hearing that name came back. How wonder- 
ful it was that he should actually be her father. It 
made her thrill from head to foot. Everything came 
back to her ; her first visit to Staten Island when 
Miss Ingoldsby said she looked like Egbert ; her 
mother’s unwillingness to talk much about the 
family ; her own discontent with their poor little 
home when they returned from Staten Island. Now, 
her poor home had been changed to a grand one, 
but her darling mother had been taken. She would 
give all, the elegant home, her father kind and good 
and loving as he seemed to be, for one more day 
with her mother : but to feel that nowhere in this 
world could she see her, only the cold, stark body 
lying in the poor little home wrung from her a cry 
that brought Margaret to the bedside. 

Lizzie’s arms were round Nanny at once, and she 
was saying as the woman came in. 

“What is it, Nanny 

“Oh, Lizzie ! my mother ! my darling mother !” 


A GUI VALliO U 6 DEED, AND WHAT GAME OE IT. 435 


CHAPTER XLY. 

When Mrs. Nevin a rich yoiiiig widow married Mr. 
Ingoldsby, a great many people were surprised ; he 
was poor, years older than she was, and she had not 
known him long ; then she was the mother of a 
bright handsome boy thirteen years old, and some 
folks said it was unkind to give him a step-father. 
And the boy himself was so angry about it, that his 
mother sent him away to school. Nor did he ever 
get to like his step-father, for as he grew older, and 
came home to spend his vacations, he saw more 
and more how Mr. Ingoldsby cared for nothing but 
to show off in society with his wife’s money, and to 
boast of his “blue blood.” 

When a little baby half-brother was born, Egbert’s 
feelings even to his step-father seemed to soften, and 
four years after, when a little step-sister came, his 
whole heart went out to her, and when she was two 
years old and his mother died, he felt, being twenty- 
one years old, as if he were more father than broth- 
er to both her and Edwin who was then six years 
of age. Egbert Nevin was very rich, having all the 
property left by his own father ; to his step-father, 
Egbert’s mother had left the whole of her own fort- 
une, but the way Mr. Ingoldsby spent money, it 
did not seem likely to last very long. Mr. Ingoldsby 
however, did not appear to think of that ; he was 
sure his step-son would help him if he became poor, 
and he was quite sure that if Egbert should die first, 
and that he were not married, he would leave all his 


436 ^ GBIVALRO U8 DEEI), AND WBA f CAME OF If . 

riches to Cornelia and Edwin. He was very angry 
that Egbert hated society so much, but he hid bis 
anger, and he made believe to laugh in a good nat- 
ured way at Egbert’s queer tastes, in always taking 
for his friends men much older than himself and 
who were more fond of books than of society. 

When Cornelia was eight years old, and her broth- 
er twelve, Egbert’s health became poor, and he 
went' to the South. In Savannah he met Captain 
Willow, one of his step-father’s friends. The Cap- 
tain took the young man to Cockspur Island where 
he himself lived with a widowed sister. 

The island was a lonely place, full of wild southern 
grass, and it had no houses except the Captain’s, and 
a few cabins where the Captain’s negro slaves lived. 
The shores of the island were low, and on bright 
days alligators came up to them from the water to 
play in the sun. In Captain Willow’s family lived 
Mary Denton, a seamstress, who was also a compan- 
ion to the Captain’s sister. She was more than 
thirty years old, not good looking, and very plainly 
educated, but she was very modest and gentle and 
kind. In the families she had worked for in Savan- 
nah, many a poor slave had a chance of knowing 
how kind she was. She was so discreet about her 
own business, that no one knew more of her than 
that she had come to the South eight years before, 
with some cousins; that all were taken down with 
Georgia fever, and that only she recovered. 

Being but a seamstress, she was not introduced to 
Captain Willow’s guest, and when she chanced to 
meet him she did not raise her eyes to look at him ; 
nor did he think at all about her, only to notice 
when he once heard her speak, her low, gentle 
voice. 

The guest liked his life on the isla. ; it was so 
lonely and secluded, and the Captain and his sister 
were delighted to have him ; then there was no need 
for him to go home for some time • Cornelia and 


A cm VALEO ITS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 437 


Edwin had teachers in the house, and their father 
was happy “living for society.” 

One afternoon, in Egbert’s walk about the island, 
he heard cries of pain coming from one of the cabins. 
He looked in and saw Mary Denton holding in her 
arms a sick negro woman. 

On the next day the slave woman was dead, two 
of the other negroes were sick in the same way, and 
it seemed likely that everybody on the island would 
catch the sickness. Captain Willow and his sister 
much frightened, got ready to leave the island at 
once, feeling sure their guest would go with them. 
As soon as they reached Savannah they would send 
proper help to the sufferers and as Mary Denton was 
already in danger of taking the disease from nurs- 
ing the sick people, they could not bring her with 
them, even if she were willing to go. What was 
their surprise to find that Nevin would not leave the 
island. 

“ My dear young sir,” said Captain Willow when 
he had said everything he could think of to make 
the young man change his determination, “if you stay 
you will cause people to talk about that young 
woman. She is very much respected in Savannah 
now, but when society hears she has been alone on 
the island with you, even though it were to nurse 
a handful of negroes, her good name will be hurt.” 

“Then if we both live, I shall marry her,” said 
Nevin with a grind of his teeth at the thought of so- 
ciety. 

The Captain was aghast, and as soon as he got to 
Savannah, he wrote a full account to Mr. Ingoldsby. 
Mr. Ingoldsby wrote back, begging his friend to do 
everything he could to prevent such a terrible mar- 
riage. But the Captain was not able to stop^ it. 
Neither Mr. Nevin, nor Mary Denton caughtthe sick- 
ness, and they nursed the poor blacks so well, that 
four out of six recovered. Then Nevin married 
Mary Denton, not however, without having to listen 


486 ^ CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WE AT GAME OF IT. 

first to her fears that he might afterward be sorry 
for doing so, as she was nine years older than he was, 
and not atallhis equal imedncation and breeding. She 
was afraid too that he wanted to marry her more be- 
cause of his own noble feelings, than because he re- 
ally loved her. They went to another part of 
Georgia to live, so that Nevin could still have the 
benefit of the southern air, and also have time to 
get his wife ready for an introduction to his family. 
She loved him dearly, and he treated her tenderly, 
but in spite of it all she could not help thinking he 
had married her from pity, and to save her good 
name. More and more each day she felt how far 
below him she was in learning and refined manners, 
and she began to fancy that her husband was not 
happy. 

Nevin in his letters home did not say a word of his 
marriage, nor did he know, nor care whether Captain 
Willow had done so. The Captain had written, call- 
ing it a very “ low marriage,” and old Mr. Ingoldsby 
was furious, but he could do nothing to help himself 
further than to write to his friend to keep a strict 
watch on the married couple, and that since it was 
such a low marriage, after a little perhaps his step- 
son would leave his wife. 

When eight months had passed business about his 
property made it necessary for Egbert to go to New 
York, but his wife was not well enough to accom- 
pany him. 

He intended to return in three weeks, and leaving 
his wife well supplied with money, he went clieer- 
fully with no thought of future trouble or separation. 
He became ill in New York, and for three months he 
never left his bed. His step-father was thus enabled 
to open every one of the letters that came from the 
frantic wife, now also a mother, and to answer them 
as he thought best. These answers were very cold and 
cruel and confirmed all the poor creature’s fears. 

At last a letter arrived asking the mother to give 


A GHIVA LRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 439 

up her child. Her husband confessed he could not 
live with her, but the infant should be well brought 
up and faithfully provided for —Mr, Ingoldsby in- 
tended to consign it to an orphan asylum. The 
mother replied as follows : 

“I give up every claim upon you, Egbert ; 1 no lon- 
ger want to see you. I am going away, and I shall 
take every means in my power to keep you from ever 
hearing of me again. 

‘‘ Maky Denton.” 

She would not even take his name to show him all 
tlie more how entirely she gave him up. Then she 
fled to a large city in the West, adopting the name 
of Tavish, and passing fora widow. 

Her husband was not well enough to read that let- 
ter for a month after it had been written. Then, 
his step-father gave it to him with all the others, say- 
ing: 

‘‘ I took the right of relationship to open them 
when the doctors said you might never get back your 
memory. Had I known that you would recover I 
should not have done so.” 

Nevin did not speak till he had read them all ; then 
he said quietly : 

“ Did you also take the right of our relationship to 
answer these letters 

“No ;” with a steady look. 

“ Why did you not answer them ?” asked Nevin 
in the same strangely quiet way, “ why did you not 
tell her, my wife, that I was sick, unable to write ; 
and not let it get to this holding up the last short 
letter. 

Mr. Ingoldsby did not speak, nor did Nevin say 
any more ; he only turned his face away from his 
step-father and set his lips together in a manner that 
showed he had made up his mind very sternly to 
something. As soon as possible he went back to the 


440 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


South to search for his wife, but it was no use. His 
slep-father lived in constant fear lest she should be 
found ; that of course would make known what he 
had done, but as the years went by he began to feel 
more and more sure that nothing ever would be heard 
of. her. 

Nevin never spoke of his marriage to any one ; it 
gave him too much pain. He blamed his step-father 
for the loss of his wife and child, and were it not 
that this man was the father of Cornelia he could 
not have borne his presence; but for her sake he 
forced himself to be respectful and even kind beyond 
Mr. Ingoldsby’s expectations. For Edwin, as the 
boy grew, Nevin did not care so much ; he resembled 
his father too closely. 

Egbert made a second visit to the South in search 
of his wife, but he had to go back with the same 
hungry, aching heart as before. He used to look 
longingly at little girls about the age his own daugh- 
ter must be if she were alive, and more at poor little 
girls than any others, because he felt his little girl 
must be poor, perhaps very poor. 

When Egbert returned to New York from that 
second visit he found his family in a line house up 
towm, most of the old servants gone, among them 
Margaret Anthon. Edwin finishing his studies at col- 
lege, and Cornelia being educated so as to be able to 
go into society. His step-father was in high spiiits 
having made some good investments. For two years 
Egbert remained home then, overseeing Cornelia’s 
studies and taking every possible care of her. In 
doing this, and in enjoying her affection for him 
w’hich was as much like a daughter’s as a sister’s, he 
did not feel quite so sad. 

At the end of the two years Edwin returned and 
this put an end to all peace and enjoyment. In disap- 
pointment and disgust Egbert went away again, this 
time to Europe, remaining a year, and writing alone 
to Cornelia, 


A CHI VALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 441 


After a while Mr. Ingoldsby’s investments began 
to fail ; he was compelled to live in a cheaper man- 
ner, or ask help from his step-son. It would be 
very hard to do the latter as both he and Edwin 
had shown so little care for Egbert’s wishes ; so, 
they made up their minds to sell the fine house and 
board till Mr. Ingoldsby should have better luck. 
While they were boarding Mrs. Tavish chanced to 
get the washing of the family to do. 

Mrs. Tavish knew that the name of her husband’s 
relatives was Ingoldsby, but she did not know much 
more, for Nevin had thought it best to say very lit- 
tle about them, and though the name at first made 
her start, she neither heard, nor saw anything to 
lead her to think they could be other than entire 
strangers to her husband. But the first time she 
went to Staten Island when Miss Ingoldsby said the 
name of Egbert, she understood all, and then her 
heart received its first shock. Her only fear was 
that the man who had been so cruel to her would 
separate her from her child. 


442 ^ CHIVALRO U8 DEED, AJSD WHA2 GAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER XLVI. 

Mes. Nevin was buried from her husband’s fine 
home ; she who was so poor almost her whole life 
long had an abundance of rich things about her 
when she lay in her beautiful casket. Those who 
saw her for the firSt time there, thought she must 
have been a handsome woman, and not as old 
as she really was. 

Her husband would have no sad looking shroud 
about her, but a robe of the purest white silk, and 
the most fragrant fiowers, and when he tookJManny 
to the parlor to see her, her tears gave way all at 
once to a look of pleasure. It seemed as if in her 
bright surroundings her mother smiled at her, and 
the pink hue of some of the buds resting against her 
face, took away from the features the look of death. 

“My own darling precious mamma!” sobbed 
Nanny, and then pressing her lips close to the dead 
face, she whispered : 

“I don’t understand yet, mamma, how it is that 
Mr. Nevin is my father, but he is very kind and I 
promised you to love and obey him. I love him al- 
ready because he loves you, so it won’t be hard to 
obey him. But don’t forget your little Nanny, in 
Heaven mamma ; ask God to make me as good as 
you want me to be.” 

Nanny,” called her father, uneasy at her long, 
close clasp of the dead. She lifted her head at once, 
and reading in his sorrowful face all the signs of a 
love as tender as her mother had given her, she 


A CmVALHOUS BBSD, Alf'I) WRAl GAME OF IT. 443 


sprang to his arms, nestled her head in his breast, and 
whispered with a sob : 

“ If I did not have you to love me, papa, my heart 
would break.” 

Mrs. Morrell said the corpse looked more like an 
angel, and then she added to Margaret Anthon : 

But she was an angel, in patience and goodness 
when she was alive,” Margaret thought so too, rec- 
ollecting how she had felt drawn to the '’strange 
woman she had helped into the house just a week 
ago. 

And what a house it was now for wonder and ex- 
citement among the servants when they were told 
that one of the little girls Nevin had brought home 
with him was his daughter, that the dead woman was 
his wife, and that Mrs. Morrell who liad behaved so 
ignorantly at the party, was coming to live ihere. 

They all came, Bartholomew, Maria, Lizzie, and 
the parrot, after the funeral, Mrs. Morrell having 
carefully locked her old apartments, and given the 
key to a neighbor to air them sometimes. Nevin had 
given them a whole floor of elegant rooms ; one of 
which was made into a dining room where they had 
their meals all to themselves. Everything was so 
fine Mrs. Morrell used to ask her husband to pinch 
her so that she might be sure she was not dreaming. 

The chairs were too elegant to sit on, she said, and 
her feet sank so far' into the carpet she used to put 
her hand down to see what sort of “soft stuff” was 
in it, while for the other furniture, it was so fine she 
had no words to describe it. Then, during meals 
when she had “a man at her back,” as she said, to 
do everything but just put the food into her mouth, 
it beat all the fairy tales ever were read. 

Bartholomew took it all quietly enough, thinking 
more of the story of the dead woman than of his own 
changed surroundings, but when he saw his wife so 
very much delighted, and when he heard her wish- 
ing Mrs. Blun gould behold her now, he thought it 


444 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 

his duty to check her a little, and he said gently : 

‘‘Don’t let yourself be set up, Maria, by any atten- 
tion that’s shown us now ; think of the poor, dead 
creature that had none of it, and it her right.” 

Nevin found the letters to his wife that his step- 
father had forged. Strangely enough, Mrs. Tavish 
had not thought to tell Mr. Morrell that she had 
kept those letters, but they had been found in a tin 
box in the closet, when Mrs. Morrell was looking 
over the contents of the room, in order to take to 
Nanny such articles as the child might prize for her 
mother’s sake. In that way the tin box where 
the letters were, and even Nanny’s own little port- 
folio containing her sketches and rhymes, were 
given to her father. Mr. Nevin read them all, his heart 
swelling with indignation against his step-father, and 
only that Mr. Ingoldsby was lying on his death bed, 
he would have confronted him with these proofs of 
his treachery. 

The sketches and rhymes of his daughter he read 
with moist eyes ; they told so much of her bright 
and ardent nature. 

After the funeral Egbert went to his brother. He 
spread the forged letters of his father before him. 

‘M neither know, nor care,” said he, “whether 
you were ever told that these letters were written, 
but I do know that you tried as much as our father 
did, to keep from me all knowledge of the child you 
were afraid might be my own. Were your father 
not ill as he is, I could not answer for what I might 
say to him. To you, I say, that you have acted un- 
gratefully to me, and like a brute to your sister. 
Till your father’s health is better I shall consider 
him my charge, and I shall permit you to stay here 
to wait on him. When he recovers I shall provide 
for him, and I shall give to you enough money to 
support you till you take up some business. That 
is all.” 

Two days after that talk; Nevin was freed from 


A OHIVALHO U 8 DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 445 

doing ay thing more for his step-father — old Mr. In- 
goldsby died without knowing anybody, and with- 
ou t u ttering a word. 

When the funeral was over Edwin went away in 
angry haste, refusing Cornelia’s hand, and flinging 
into Nevin’s face, the checque he had drawn for him. 
But, for all that, ISTevin found means to send the 
checque after Edwin, as Edwin in his own heart felt 
that he would do, and the young man did not dis- 
dain then to receive it and to use it. 


446 ^ CHIVALROUS DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


CHAPTER XLYIL 

It was some time before Nanny Nevin recovered 
strength or spirits enough to enjoy her new home. 
What she liked best of all, was her father’s love for 
her. When he was away from her, which was not 
often, she used to close "her eyes and picture him 
and her mother together. 

Cornelia, now that she could give without any fear 
the love Nanny so easily won, made up by her 
tenderness for every pain she had intiicted in the 
past, and then Nanny had Lizzie constantly with 
her. But she liked best of all to lie upon lier 
father’s breast, and tell him about her mother. In 
that way Nevin learned the depths of his poor wife’s 
suffering, and her ardent affection for her child, and 
if, during the eight months of their wedded life, there 
had been times when Nevin regretted his wife’s want 
of learning, there was never a moment now, that he- 
did not feel that no amount of learning could be 
equal to her noble life of love and goodness. 

Mr. Morrell after two weeks in Mr. Nevin’s 
house, thought it time to go back to his own, not a 
little to his wife’s disgust, when the master of the 
house was so anxious to have them stay. But Bar- 
tholomew said in his quiet way. 

‘‘ There aint no need of us staying longer, Maria ; 
Nanny’s getting along, and Lizzie will stay here. 
We must not impose on kindness that’s given to us 
out of gratitude.” But when he told Mr. Nevin he 
was going, that gentleman said at once ; 


A cm VALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 447 

‘‘ I could not hear of it, Mr. Morrell, because it 
would upset all my plans. I mean, as soon as 
Nanny is well enough, to take her to Europe for a 
few months, and if you will trust her to me, Lizzie 
also ; my sister will go with us, and while we are 
gone I want you and your good wife to take charge 
of the house and servants. ‘Margaret Anthon, I 
think will be a great help to Mrs. Morrell. So give 
up your old rooms, and do not think of going into 
business for another year,” saying the last words 
with a smile that made Mr. Morrell smile also. 
However,he consented to Mr. Nevin’s proposal to 
remain, though he was not so sure about letting Liz- 
zie go to Europe — Europe was a great way off, and 
how could he bear the parting? But he would not 
say anything about his own feelings yet, lest it 
would be selfish. 

When Mrs. Morrell was told of the plan, the part 
that pleased her most was the proffer to remain in 
her grand home, and in her delight she sat down on 
the very softest chair, and placed her feet firmly in 
the downy carpet. 

I couldn’t get quite used to all this grandeur 
before,” she said by way of explanation, “but now 
that I’ m going to stay in it awhile. I’ll just make my- 
self at home.” 

“Maria,” said her husband gravely, “don’t let 
your human nature be set up. Be thankful, Maria, 
but be humble.” 

Nevin did not trouble himself about what society 
said ; of course society was aghast that he should 
take such low people into his house, and let their 
daughter be like a twin sister of his own child. 
Had he been willing to receive the fair, fashionable 
ladies, many of them would have overlooked the 
fact that his own daughter had a lowly born mother 
but since he still politely refused their advances, 
they declared that they must cut the whole family, 
even Cornelia. And then they managed to revive 


448 ^ CEIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 

the old rumors of his low marriage in the South, 
and to say that the ridiculous party he had given 
was in keeping with his odd, disagreeable character. 
None of them knew the true cause of the separation 
of husband and wife ; Nevin never told it so as to 
spare the memory of his step-father ; not even to Cor- 
nelia did he tell about the forged letters— all but the 
facts relating to them, she knew. 

Edwin told his friends very briefly that his step- 
brother had made a low marriage eleven years be- 
fore, by some means — he was careful not to say what 
means— had become separated from his wife till just 
before her death, and that he, Edwin, had left his 
brother’s house because he would not recognize the 
child of sucli a low woman. 

In the home of the Bluns whither Mr. Blun him- 
self was the first to bring the news, having heard it 
in the store from a customer, it caused amazement 
and dismay. Mr. Blun had every item, even down 
to the fact that the Morrells were living with Mr. 
Nevin, and he told it all with intense secret satisfac- 
tion ; it was so sweet a revenge on his wife. His wife 
sat looking at him as if she thought he had gone 
crazy. Miss Luxor was sincerely delighted. 

‘‘That poor widow, as I thought she was, and her 
daughter,” she said ; “I was very much interested 
in them when I went to see them. Are you not 
sorry?” turning to Helen, “that you did not go 
with me to visit them, that time ?” 

Helen was looking blank from astonishment, envy, 
and vexation. Perhaps her grt atesi pain came from 
the fact that Lizzie Morrell was made so much of. 

Mrs. Blun was ready to cry when she heard all this 
wonderful news ; if only, she had not treated the 
poor washerwoman as she had done, or if she had 
been civil to Mrs. Morrell at the party — Mr. Blun 
felt as he looked at his wife that he had had all the 
satisfaction he wanted. 

Nanny in talking about her life to her father. 


A CHIVALRO US DEED, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. 449 

could not very well keep back the part that Helen 
Blun had played in it, though she tried to do so, 
thinking it would please her mother to say nothing 
but kind things of every one ; but when she stopped 
and tried to change the subject, Lizzie who was of- 
ten present at these conversations, used to come 
back to Helen and tell what Nanny would have left 
untold. 

Then Mr. Nevin explained to them both that Helen 
was more to be pitied, and that her faults were due 
to a want of proper home training ; he even made 
them both laugh by his description of Helen as she 
looked the first time he saw her with the ridiculous 
bonnet on. And somehow, he always made Lizzie 
feel more kindly to Helen ; as for Nanny, witli her 
heart so full of the teachings of her dead mothei*, 
and her life so rich with love, she had no thought 
save one of kindness for everybody. 

In Nanny’s old school her wonderful good fortune 
was known the day after her mother’s death ; in- 
deed, the whole neighborhood was so full of it, that 
it would have been strange had not the school chil- 
dren heard it ; from them, the teacliers got it ; but 
Miss Olden had more direct news, having gone to 
the house in time to see the removal of Mrs. Nevin’ s 
remains, and to hear an account from Mrs. Morrell, 
and Miss Olden told it all to her companions dur- 
ing the noon recess. Of course. Miss Robson heard 
it also, and she had to bear not a few curious looks ; 
most of the teachers wondering what she thought 
of Nanny Tavish now, and whether she did not re- 
gret her treatment of the child. But Miss Robson 
did not seem to mind^ holding herself up very stiff- 
ly, and saying, when Miss Olden had finished 
amid a chorus of : 

“Oh!” “ isn’t it wonderful ?” ‘‘ I never read any- 
thing like it.” 

I always take such tales with a good deal of res- 
ervation ; the narrator’s imagination is so apt to 


450 ^ VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF IT. 

embellish,” and then she went out of the room so as 
to hear nothing more. 

But, she had co acknowledge it was no embellish- 
ment of the narrator’s imagination when three weeks 
later. Miss Olden showed a note she had received 
from Mr. Nevin asking her to call and see Nannj^, 
and thanking her for her kindness to jN’anny while 
in lier class, and for her kind visit to Nanny’s 
mother. 

Miss Robson turned white with jealousy and anger, 
and when the day after, she herself received a note 
from Mr Nevin, accompanying Lizzie Morrell’s 
books, a Tiote which merely told her that Lizzie 
had left the school and which note did not even hint 
at a wish to have her call to see Nanny, Miss Rob- 
son’s secret rage was very great. 

And when Miss Olden after her visit to the 
Nevins, described to the teachers the grandeur of 
the house, her own friendly reception, and her cor- 
dial invitation to come again, Miss Robson’s angry, 
envious feelings made her almost ill. 




A cm VALR 0 C 8 ^EED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 451 


CHAPTER XLYIII. 

Mr. Morrell, like the good man he was, when 
he thought of all that would come to his niece from 
a trip to Europe, said she should go, and he bravely 
hid his own feelings about having her away 
from him. Could Lizzie have taken her uncle with 
her, her delight would have known no bounds, but 
to be gone from him for six months seemed cruel. 
It took endless assurances from him that, now being 
so well provided for, and his health so good, he 
would get along quite well, and that he would 
hardly feel the six months passing. 

Mrs. Morrell was the happiest woman in the whole 
city, she said herself : indeed, she was constantly in 
such spirits, that her husband had to tell her very 
often not to let her human nature be set up ; to 
“be thankful, but be humble.” 

When Mrs. Morrell made her last visit to her old 
tenement house home, dressed in the black silk 
that still looked hamdsome though she had worn 
it a great deal lately to be in keeping with her 
elegant surroundings, and when she found herself 
a sort of queen among her neighbors, she felt as 
if there were nothing to be added to her happiness. 
Even Mrs. Tappan was willing to forgive the old 
offence, leaving her apartments to make one of the 
circle of neighbors who crowded about Mrs. Morrell 
to listen to her wonderful accounts, and to tell her 
how glad they were of her good fortune. 

Of course Mrs. Morrell paid a visit to the under- 


452 ^ CEIVALR0U8 DEED, AND WHAT GAME OF IT. 


taker’s shop, bursting on poor forlorn looking 
Tliiniig in a way that nearly took his breath ; but, 
as Mr. Brush was in the shop also, it gave the boy 
time to recover himself. Mr. Brush shook hands 
with Mrs. Morrell and that was an opening for 
repeating everything she had told to the other neigh- 
bors. But the account made Thimig very sad ; it 
took Lizzie further and further from him, and when 
he heard she was going to Europe he burst out cry- 
ing. 

“Orlander!” said Mrs. Morrell, while Brush 
wondering, asked : 

‘‘What’s the matter ?” 

Thimig said still crying ; and digging his big fists 
into his eyes : 

“I can’t help it ; she was the light of my heart ; her 
eyes is a fiashin’ before me all the time, and now 
she’s goin’ away.” 

“Who?” asked Brush puzzled. 

“Lizzie ; Lizzie as has the eyes wot a fellow can’t 
forget — oh — o— oh !” ' 

“Oh, that’s what’s the matter, is it, ?” said Brush 
laughing, but Mrs. Morrell did not laugh, she actu- 
ally put her arm around the boy’s ungainly should- 
ers and said : 

“Don’t you cry Orlander ; when Lizzie comes back 
she’ll come to see you, I won’t let her forget you.” 

Thimig stopped crying, and taking the hand that 
rested on his shoulder pressed it to his bosom. 

“ Thank you, Mrs. Morrell ; you’re a good woman ; 
once I called you a animal but I’m sorry now ; you 
aint no animal.” 

“ That’s all right, Orlander, ’’said Mrs. Morrell, for- 
giying entirely in the happy state of her mind every- 
thing that was ever done, or said against her. 

“ Don’ t you think no more of it, and maybe when 
Lizzie comes back, and Bartholomew goes into busi- 
ness, and we’re a living in rooms again, you’ll come 
to see us,” 


A OBtVA LRO tIS DEED, AND WHA T GAME OF It. 


And this prospect comforted Thimi^ very much. 

Mr. Nevin would reward everybody who had been 
kind to his wife and child : in that way the humble 
Alocks got a present that enabled tliem to leave 
their basement home, and the other four families in 
the house got mementoes from Nevin in Nanny’s 
name, and as the mementoes were fifty dollar gold 
pieces they were very nice and most acceptable. 

For Miss Olden, Nevin wanted to do something 
more ; and learning that she thought of making 
application for a higher position in a school then be- 
ing built, and which was to open in September, but 
that she was afraid it would be hopeless to do so, as 
she had no influence, he told her to write her appli- 
cation and give it to him. 

When Miss Olden told that in school Miss Robson 
sneered. Miss Robson also had made application for 
a higher position in that same new school, but then 
it was known she had friends who would work for 
her appointment. 

‘‘As for Mr. Nevin,” Miss Robson said, “he is not 
connected in any way with the school ; what influ- 
ence can he have f ’ 

“The influence of great wealth,” replied one of 
the teachers, “ and that influence often seems power- 
ful enough to buy, or bribe anything under Heaven.” 

A speech which seemed prophetic, for it actually 
turned out that Nevin, because of his wealth was 
able to get influence enough to make his young 
friend Principal of the new school. On searching 
her record the educational committee found that she 
had seven years experience, an exceptionally good 
record except that of the last examination which 
truth had made Superintendent Jonas report had not 
been quite up to the mark, and an excellent char- 
acter. So, Mr. Nevin was told the chances for his 
candidate were very good. 

When Miss Robson heard that she was aghast, 
but still she would not believe that the principalship 


454 VALRO US DEED, AND WHA T CAME OF XT. 

could be secured for Miss Olden, nor did she believe it 
till the appointments were actually made ; then, 
when she found that Miss Olden was really the Prin- 
cipal ; while she herself had been appointed in the 
same school to a position only a grade higher than 
her present one, it made her so sick she stayed away 
from school two whole days. 

In justice to Miss Olden we must say that while 
she was delighted, she did not forget to be humble 
and she received the congratulations of her fellow 
teachers with becoming modesty. That rigid dis- 
ciplinarian, Miss Tibbetty, relaxed entirely her se- 
verity with Miss Olden during the remainder of the 
young lady’s stay in the school, and Miss Amer on 
several occasions, gave her good advice as to the 
manner of properly fulfilling the duties of her new 
and exalted position. 


A OHIVALMOIJiS DEEJJy ANJJ WHAT GAME Od IT. 455 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

Mr. Nevin had made up his mind to give an- 
ofher party ; but this time it was to be a party to 
v'^liich only the Blun family and Miss Olden were to 
be invited, and it was to take place a day or two be- 
fore he and his two little charges started for Europe. 

When Mrs. Morrell heard about the party and who 
were to be invited, it seemed to her as if she had at- 
tained a height of glory hardly possible in this world. 

This party was not like the former one. Both 
Xevin and Cornelia made it full of simplicity and 
good h umor, and enjoyment. Mr. Blun actually forgot 
his discipline, Mrs. Blun unconsciously gave up her 
airs, and she met Mrs. Morrell’s cordial advances 
in a manner that banished every unpleasant trace 
of the past. Helen, at first shy and shame faced, 
was taken possession of by Nanny and Lizzie ; and 
they both vied with each other in treating her 
kindly and making her so happy, she could feel no 
longer either envious or jealous. 

All the children went in a body to explore the beau- 
tiful house, but that which amused the twins most 
was Lizzie’s parrot. It was as lively and as talkative 
as ever ; and when it said, on being asked by Susie 
to talk more : 

‘' Go to bed,” the twins roared with laughter. 

Miss Luxor thought there never had been such a 
pleasant gathering. She was especially pleased with 
Mr. Morrell, and when the adieus were spoken with 
the promise of happy reunions on the return from 


4b6 ^ CHIVALRO US DRBD, AND WUA T CAME OF IT. 


Europe, even Mrs. Blun felt there was truer enjoy- 
ment to be found in simplicity and kindness than in 
all the style of high society. 

When Helen laid her head on her pillow that night 
it was with a happier heart than she had known for 
months. Miss Luxor after she had put the delight- 
ed children to bed, feeling impelled to go to Helen’s 
room found her wide awake. 

“Aunt Rebecca, ’’she said, “come and kiss me, I am 
so happy.'’ 

And so the story is ended. But, in another book 
we shall take up the narrative, telling what happened 
to the travelers in Europe, resuming our acquaint- 
ance with the Morrells, and recounting the fortunes 
of the vario.us members of the Blun family, not even 
forgetting poor,, stupid Oleander Thimig. 

South Woodbury, Vt. 

1890. 


Finis. 




















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